Harry Potter and the Seventh Soul
by MaraudersFangirl
Summary: My version of Book 7. Major HBP spoilers. Hogwarts is closed, so Harry and his friends find themselves destroying Horcruxes and searching for the key to Voldemort's downfall as the lives they'd known slowly crumble in around them.
1. Prologue

MaraudersFangirl's version of Book 7. Harry sets off on his quest for Voldemort's Horcruxes and discovers the true loyalties of certain wizards. He also receives some much-needed help from Hogwarts, though the school itself remains closed. The war against Voldemort rages on and spreads in the Wizarding community. As the death toll rises, Harry, Ron, and Hermione desperately search for the pieces of Voldemort's soul and the key to his downfall. The lives they had known crumble around them, and the Trio finally come to realize that nothing, not even each other, can be secure anymore. Hopefully my fic will fill in some of the time spent by fans uselessly wondering when is J. K. Rowling _ever_ going to finish Book 7? ;)

* * *

Harry Potter and the Seventh Soul

Prologue 

A deserted country road. Or almost deserted, anyway.

A huge green snake with reddish eyes slithered in the shadows by the side of the road. Every few seconds the snake stopped and flared its nostrils, as if smelling out or tracking something. Then it continued on.

It finally stopped in a bunch of reeds, just a few feet away from a young man who had also been walking along the road. He looked to be about sixteen or seventeen years old. He was wearing long black robes and had a small backpack with him. The boy stopped and quietly turned around, listening.

The snake hissed with satisfaction. This was definitely the one its master wanted. Black, untidy hair; round glasses; and the obvious scar on his forehead. The young man seemed to be nervous, a bit twitchy. He had now pulled a long, black stick out from his robes. The snake recoiled. It didn't like those sticks, those "wands". They made its scales tingle unpleasantly. But the master had one as well; it seemed the snake would never be able to get away from them.

The snake's eyes narrowed as it watched the boy on the road. It had never liked wands, no, especially after that thing its master had done to it, years and years ago. He had done the same thing to five other objects, which he had hidden. But not his snake. Ever since that day, it had felt curiously tied to its master, and would not, "could not", leave him.

The snake's master had sent it to spy on the master's enemy: this young boy. The snake wondered vaguely how such a small human could be the master's worst enemy, but since its small brain left it incapable of figuring out such complicated matters, hadn't given its wondering another thought.

The boy had turned around again and continued walking, but he still kept the wand cautiously by his side. The big snake silently followed him.

Suddenly, about five yards down the road, a large snowy owl swooped down out of the sky and landed on the boy's shoulder. The snake, hidden in the shadows, watched and listened as the boy began talking to the owl quietly.

"Had a good hunt, Hedwig?" he whispered. Hedwig dropped a dead mouse into his hand and nibbled at his finger. The boy smiled. "Good girl. I'll try to go a bit faster for you, alright? I want to get off this road as soon as possible. This place is too… too quiet, it gives me the creeps. I wish I had my Apparition license… Death Eaters could be anywhere around here." The boy shuddered and unconsciously stroked the bird's feathers. "But I can't wait to get to the Burrow, can you? To see the Weasleys, and Ron and Hermione again… and Ginny…"

* * *

A half-hour later, the snake had heard all it needed to know. It turned and slithered away, into the darkness. It hissed a snakey chuckle as it began the trip back. It must get home quickly. The master would want to hear this interesting new information on the Potter boy…

The master would be very pleased.


	2. Wormtail's Mission

Chapter 1 — Wormtail's Mission

Nagini was returning. The Dark Lord could sense it. And about time, too. Voldemort stretched his spider-like hands impatiently. The snake had been on the road for more than a day with her information on that Potter boy. Hopefully she would bring news of a weakness that they could use against Potter. To break him down. He had to have one… POTTER! Lord Voldemort despised the sound of his name. That… _child_ had thwarted his plans too many times. But not this time. Voldemort smiled, a cold, mirthless smile. This time, that fool Dumbledore would not be able to help him, thanks to the efforts of the Dark Lord's faithful servant, Snape. No, that Mudblood-lover would never interfere again.

Voldemort's smile faded. He hadn't any idea where Snape or the Malfoy boy had Disapparated to, after that eventful night. His suspicions had begun to mount when his Death Eaters had been unsuccessful in finding them. His confidence lessened every day Snape was missing.

He was startled out of his reverie by a knock at his door. "My lord?" A woman with a pale, drawn face and stringy black hair stuck her head around the door. "My lord, Nagini is back."

Voldemort stood from the small chair he'd been sitting on. The woman at the door quickly backed away.

"Excellent. Alert the others, Bellatrix. I must speak to you all, after I have spoken with Nagini. Oh — and get Wormtail for me."

"Yes, my lord." Bellatrix Lestrange bowed deeply, then turned and with a swish of her robes Disapparated.

"Excellent," Voldemort repeated. He left the dingy room and began going downstairs.

As he surveyed his surroundings, his snake-like face twisted into a sneer. The Death Eaters had found a small, dilapidated house around the corner from Grimmauld Place, and the former headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Snape had told him where it was located, but since Snape wasn't the Order's Secret-Keeper, Voldemort himself still couldn't find it. Being on location still helped anyway. He had wanted to be right near there in case any Order members showed up. Though he didn't think that likely, as Dumbledore's death would have probably split them up and sent them running. Not to mention they probably wouldn't trust each other again, thanks to their horrific betrayal.

Voldemort flicked a dead fly off the wall with distaste. The old house was very uncomfortable and so _dirty_, and there was always a draft floating around, but it would have to do. The house was also conveniently located close enough to Hogwarts that if it was reopened, Voldemort would be able to flatten it as easily as a fly. Now that Dumbledore was gone, Hogwarts posed neither a threat nor challenge.

Voldemort exited the house into a grungy alleyway. Three hooded Death Eaters were there, as well as a huge green snake. The Dark Lord hurried toward them, eyes narrowed with anticipation.

The Death Eaters bowed out of his way, murmuring "My lord" as he swept past. He ignored them and bent down next to Nagini. His followers eyed him nervously as he began hissing in Parseltongue to his snake. His uncanny ability unnerved them all. But the snake was a useful spy…

"Leave me!" Voldemort commanded, suddenly straightening. "You are all still here?" He pulled a long wand out of his robes and pointed it menacingly. "Get out!"

His Death Eaters stumbled over themselves as they tried to escape his deadly weapon. They had seen first-hand what a wand could do when in his possession. One by one, they Disapparated. All but the shortest person, a plump man with rat-like teeth and sparse, ginger-colored hair. His left hand seemed to be encased in a glove of shining silver.

"My lord?" he asked nervously. "You asked for me?"

"I don't _ask_, Wormtail," Voldemort said lazily. "I _tell_. I thought you might have some useful information for me, for once."

"Oh, m-master…" Wormtail stammered. "I, ah… that is… No, no, I haven't, my lord," he trailed off miserably. He cringed.

"I didn't think you would," Voldemort said mildly. He pointed his wand at the cowering man. His mood suddenly seemed to change. "I could kill you right here if I chose!" he hissed. "You and all the rest of them!" After a moment he smoothly put the wand back in his pocket and watched the shaking Wormtail. He seemed to enjoy the man's fear. "But today you're in luck, Wormtail," Voldemort continued. "Nagini has brought back some interesting news that almost makes up for your incompetence. Very interesting news. No," and here he leaned down toward Wormtail, "No, I shall not kill you today. I could think of a whole other host of things that need doing, so why should I waste my time on a sniveling creature like you?"

Wormtail seemed to break down with relief. "Yes… yes, why should… Thank you, my lord…"

"No," Voldemort interrupted. "I'll let someone else do that. I have a mission for you, Wormtail, and you may not come out of it alive. Not that _that_ would be any great loss."

Wormtail blanched. "A-a mission?" He was trembling hard now. "W-what is it, m-my lord?"

"Hmmm," the Dark Lord said. He began pacing up and down in the alleyway. Nagini hissed anxiously and followed him. "Well, Wormtail, Nagini was sent to follow the Harry Potter boy. I trust you remember him? You actually needed him to save your miserable carcass three years ago, didn't you?" Wormtail shrank back. He'd been sure that he had seen Voldemort's hand twitch toward his pocket… but he had imagined such things before. He had grown extremely paranoid over his years of service. It was one of the many prices he had paid in following such a cruel master.

"One of my most _loyal_ Death Eaters," Voldemort continued. "One of my most _trusted_ followers… had to rely on a _thirteen-year-old boy_… a mere _child_… to get him out of a tight spot! _'SAVE ME, HARRY, SAVE ME!'_" He spat on the ground and drew his wand so fast that Wormtail just spotted it.

Wormtail quickly backed away…

"_CRUCIO!_"

…But not quickly enough. He was hit by a fierce spell that almost made him double over with pain. A hundred knives were piercing him all over… He couldn't breath... He was writhing blindly on the ground, and he dimly heard Voldemort laughing above him…

The spell was suddenly lifted and Wormtail lay there, sobbing. Voldemort cruelly kicked him in the side, sneering at him distastefully. "Look at you!" he hissed. "Cowering on the ground like a filthy rat! Which, come to think of it, you are!" Voldemort laughed evilly, his anger evaporating... or so it seemed. Voldemort was too unpredictable to assume anything about him. His wrath could be lurking just below the surface... waiting to be reawakened...

Wormtail got up shakily. His body was still tingling with pain, but the Dark Lord ignored him. Voldemort's snakelike face twisted again, angrily. "Do you have any idea how great a bond this creates between you and Potter? You owe him a debt now! I'm surprised Dumbledore didn't see... but yes — yes, he most likely did..." Voldemort was pacing again. "Yes, I'm sure he would have told... Never mind. Wormtail. Nagini here told me that Potter is headed for the home of those blood-traitor Westleys —"

"Weasleys," Wormtail corrected automatically. As soon as he said it he knew it was wrong and clapped his hand over his mouth. "I-I'm so sorry — please... my lord... I did not — I didn't think..." he stammered with horror.

To his relief, Voldemort didn't seem to be too angry. "Yes, that's always your trouble, isn't it Wormtail? YOU NEVER THINK. But I'll let you make up for it this time, Wormtail. Potter is headed for the _Weasleys'_ house. I believe there is going to be a wedding... Make it a night to remember — for them and Potter. He has a girlfriend there now, did you know?" He grinned, but the effect it had on his snakish face was hideous. "Bring as many Death Eaters as you like. Does your pathetic little mind understand?"

"Yes, my lord," said Wormtail, bowing to the ground.

"Good," the Dark Lord said. Wormtail turned to go. "Oh, and Wormtail?" The shorter man stopped. "Yes, master?"

"Nagini says that Potter will be heading to Godric's Hollow after the 'wedding.'" He smiled again, evilly. "I trust you remember where that is, don't you Wormtail?"

Wormtail shuddered painfully, memories flooding his mind. "Yes, I do, my lord."

"I thought you might. Hmmm. Ready a surprise welcome-home party for him, for his arrival, Wormtail! After all, he hasn't been there since his lucky escape to fame. Him and his two little friends. The Weasley boy and that Mudblood girl."

Voldemort picked up Nagini, who twined around his shoulders. He turned away. "You may now go, Wormtail."

"Yes my lord."

Wormtail bowed and, turning, transformed into a large rat that scurried away into the night. Voldemort ignored him and stared unseeingly off into the distance, absently stroking Nagini as he waited for the other Death Eaters to arrive. "But you won't be so lucky this time, Harry Potter," he whispered to the darkness. "Not this time..."


	3. The Weasleys' Mark

Chapter 2 — The Weasleys' Mark

On a country road far away, the boy Harry Potter was still walking.

"What time is it?" he muttered. He squinted at his watch in the dimming light of dusk (It was almost seven o'clock, for everyone who wants to know). "We should be at the Burrow soon. You all right, Hedwig?" he asked the snowy owl perched on his shoulder. Hedwig hooted sleepily and gripped Harry's robes more firmly with her sharp talons. Harry grinned.

He had left Number 4 Privet Drive the day after his seventeenth birthday. His Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been more than polite to him when he left, but Harry had sensed that they wanted him to get out of their lives as soon as possible. And he honestly couldn't blame them. Everything was going wrong in the world — peculiar murders and accidents had begun turning up, and all the Dursleys knew was that it had something to do with their nephew. Who would want to be in the middle of something so dangerous?

When Harry had left, piggish Dudley had been nowhere to be seen. Harry had assumed that he was hiding from his scary magic cousin in the house, but then he had seen Dudley cowering behind one of Aunt Petunia's immaculately trimmed bushes. Harry had stared down at Dudley. Dudley had stared back, then jumped up and waddled away, a frightened look on his face. Harry had felt a prickle of satisfaction as he scared away the boy who'd always made his life at the Dursleys' a living hell.

It felt great to be away from the Dursleys and not just at school. Harry felt immense freedom out here. The only thing he needed now was for Voldemort to be dead and buried; an Apparition license; and Ron and Hermione and Ginny with him. A tall order, to be sure, but Harry felt quite optimistic, walking along the deserted road.

Of course, it hadn't even been easy getting to where he was now. Harry had been unable to contact the Weasleys during the whole summer, except for the one letter he'd gotten from Ron. Even that had been very obscure and difficult to understand. But there was a good reason for that: no one knew whether letters were getting through (without being intercepted) or not. Fear of Voldemort and his Death Eaters was everywhere.

The letter had only told Harry that the Weasleys couldn't get him to the Burrow for Bill and Fleur's wedding, and that Apparition or hitchhiking were the only solutions for Harry's transportation problem. It also said that Hermione was already there, and that the whole family, especially Ginny, was looking forward to seeing him. A complete waste of parchment, in Harry's opinion, but the part about Ginny had warmed his insides like a mug of butterbeer.

Harry hadn't even bothered asking Uncle Vernon for a ride to the Weasleys'. He knew the answer he would get. Just asking him for provisions for the road had been bad enough.

Harry had asked for some food and extra clothing, as he'd had no idea how long he would take in getting to the Burrow. After much ranting, raving, and cursing about "wasting our supplies" and "if those freakish friends of yours like you so much, why can't they send you things and save us the extra expenses?" Uncle Vernon had given in and let Harry take some supplies. "No more than you need, mind!" he had roared. In a fit of conscience, Aunt Petunia had even given Harry an old, torn-up backpack that had once belonged to Dudley.

Harry had magically expanded the inside of the backpack so he could fit all his belongings into it. It had been quite a stretch trying to fit in his Firebolt broomstick, but in the end he'd managed it. He had only needed to leave Hedwig's cage behind.

Harry had gotten rides from a few different cars, but none of them had had any idea where the Burrow was. So, after a ride with a family of four who had eyed Hedwig warily, Harry had started walking. And walking. And walking. Harry guessed he had been walking for about two or three days. His legs were tired and felt weak. But by his calculations, he and Hedwig would reach the Burrow in just another hour or so of heavy walking. Harry envied Hedwig. He would have ridden his broom, but the chances were too risky that he would be spotted. He didn't want to attract the attention of the wrong people.

As it was, Harry wasn't _completely_ sure that he wasn't being followed. Several times, he had been sure he'd heard some rustling in the bushes by the side of the road. He had spun around only to see that there wasn't anybody there.

The boy had gotten extremely jumpy. And paranoid. Every time he heard a noise, even the wind, he jumped and quickly drew his wand. All he wanted to do now was to get off this road and arrive at the Weasleys' home.

An uneventful hour passed. Harry still couldn't see any sign of the Burrow. After another half-hour of walking, Harry began to panic. Taking out his wand, he did a Four-Point Spell to make sure he was heading in the right direction. He was, but ten minutes later, the house still wasn't there.

Suddenly, the odd, crooked spires of the Burrow came into view in the distance. The rest of the house was obscured by a thick fog. Harry hurried towards it, relieved. He didn't want to be on the eerie, deserted road a second longer than was necessary.

As he got closer to the Weasleys' home, Harry noticed a peculiar smell in the air... smoke! He took a closer look at the house and saw that it was on fire! _What's going on?_

Harry started running, but when he got closer to the burning house, something felt wrong. He reached the fence surrounding the Burrow... and stopped dead in his tracks. The fence's gate had been shattered and was lying on the ground. Harry's worst suspicions were confirmed. Something was very wrong.

He looked up. Later he wasn't able to say what exactly made him look up, but he did... and gasped. "No... Please, no..."

Hanging above the Burrow was an image of a huge, glowing skull. A snake protruded from the skull's mouth. "No..." Harry whispered with horror.

The Dark Mark.


	4. Tragic Mortality

Chapter 3 — Tragic Mortality

Harry raced through the Burrow's back yard and stopped just short of the house. He hesitated, then shouted, "Mr. Weasley! Mrs. Weasley! Ron! Hermione..." He began coughing. "Ginny..."

The fire and smoke were overwhelming. Harry covered his nose and mouth with the hem of his shirt and threw his backpack onto the ground. He was about to charge into the house when a couple people came out the back door.

Harry drew his wand and was about to shoot a hex when he recognized them. A red-haired man with light scars traced across his face was carrying a young woman with silvery hair out of the house. Harry dropped his wand. "Bill? F-Fleur?"

Bill didn't seem to hear Harry. He staggered across the lawn, coughing all the way, and gently set the unconscious Fleur down on the grass, a few yards away from the burning house. He then collapsed next to her.

Harry ran over to Bill and Fleur and knelt down beside them. "Bill...?" he asked anxiously.

Bill blearily opened his eyes. When he saw Harry next to him, his eyes widened in disbelief. "Harry?" he croaked. "Is it — Is it really you? What are you doing here?"

"I was coming for the wedding..." Harry said hesitantly. "But Bill... Is everybody all right? What happened?"

Bill closed his eyes again. "They came on us so fast... They set the house on fire and locked the doors... I lost track of everyone... Then I found Fleur lying on the floor in the kitchen... It was all so fast, Harry..."

"Who — who's 'we'?" Harry asked hesitantly, dreading the answer that he knew would come.

"Death Eaters," Bill whispered. Harry turned pale and put his face in his hands. i No... /i "Five or six of them. We were getting ready for your arrival... then suddenly they were there. We weren't prepared... There was nothing we could do..."

The effort of speaking so long seemed to be too much for Bill, and he collapsed. Harry stood and stared up at the burning house. There was no way he could put out such a large fire. Then he remembered. Everyone else was still in the house!

Harry shouted, "RON! HERMIONE! FRED, GEORGE... GINNY! Are you in there?" He was about to run into the house and find them himself when the back door swung open again. Harry jumped back to see Fred, Ron, and Hermione emerge from the house. Fred was carrying a semi-conscious Ron. Hermione hovered behind them, sobbing, her hair a mass of knots.

Fred put Ron down on the lawn. Hermione knelt down beside him and started crying all over his face. Once again, none of them seemed to notice Harry's presence at first. But after a few minutes, Hermione stood up, wiped off her eyes, and looked around for the first time.

She stared at Harry. Harry stared back. She was more of a mess than he had ever seen her. Then Hermione gave a little scream of relief and threw herself onto Harry, sobbing again.

"Harry! What — what are you doing here? Now? Oh, Harry... I'm so glad — You wouldn't i believe /i ... Harry, it was so h-h-horrible..."

Harry's robes were already soaked, but he didn't pay them any attention. "Hermione... How did they get here so fast? Where is everyone else?"

Fred, who was staring at Harry as if he'd seen a ghost, answered him. He was uncharacteristically grim. "We have no idea how they got here so quick. They didn't even Apparate, just marched up here like nobody's business and started hexing everything in sight. Mum and Dad had just gone shopping, and the Death Eaters probably knew it. We were completely defenseless."

Harry started. They had known that the Weasleys had gone away? That must mean they were being watched...

"Charlie couldn't get here for the wedding," continued Fred. "Apparently the war against You-Know-Who isn't going too well over in Romania, either. And you know that great prat Percy hasn't even spoken to us since Christmas. Might not even know about the wedding."

Harry suddenly looked around. Someone was missing... "Where's George? And Ginny?"

Hermione lifted her head from Harry's shoulder and exchanged a look with Fred. "You're not going to like this, Harry..." Hermione said cautiously. "Tell me!" Harry shouted, fearing the worst.

Fred spoke up. "George is alright. He's still in there." He nodded his head at the house. "He's looking for Ginny. We-we can't find her, Harry."

"What?" Harry whispered. His blood pounded in his ears as he fought to keep his anger — and his fear — under control.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but Harry whirled around and made a dash for the Burrow. "No Harry!" he heard her scream, but he ignored her and burst through the door of the burning house.

The smoke was unbelievably thick inside, and Harry had to cover his face to keep himself from constantly coughing. He ran through the living room and glanced around as he went. It was a mess. More of a mess than usual. Harry stopped and stared, his horror growing. Overstuffed chairs were overturned and blasted to pieces. Scorch marks were all over the walls. Everything — a wreck.

It was almost as bad in the kitchen. The normally neat floors were covered in broken dishes and cooking utensils. Tables and chairs were splintered and overturned. But the worst part, to Harry, lay on the ground by the wall. It was a clock with nine hands. The glass face had been smashed. Each hand had the name of one of the Weasley family on it. George and Ginny's hands were both pointing to a phrase inscribed along one side of the clock: Mortal Peril.

Gulping once, Harry tore his eyes away from this sight and jogged through the doorway to the hall... where he ran into George.

"George!" Harry gasped, and in the same moment George said, "Harry! What are you doing here?"

i Is that all people ask anymore? /i Harry thought irritably. "Never mind! Where's Ginny? Have you found her?" he yelled to George.

"No," George shouted back. "I couldn't find her anywhere! But I haven't gone upstairs — The rooms up there are weakest! I think the fire got started up there!"

That was all Harry needed to know. The second George finished talking, he barreled up the steps. "No Harry, wait!" George dimly yelled, but there wasn't any time.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Harry plunged into the second floor and discovered that George had been right. The fire was almost completely isolated on this floor. The heat and smoke were even worse in here. Harry could barely see his hand an inch from his face.

He started throwing open doors, desperately calling "Ginny!" But he couldn't find her.

Then, he flung open the last door, which was so hot he almost burned himself on the knob. Heat rolled off his face like a wave, scorching his skin and forcing him to close his eyes. The fire had obviously begun in this room. "Ginny!" he shouted, one last time... But this time he was answered by a moan, coming from the floor. Harry opened his eyes wide and saw her. Ginny, lying on the ground next to a four-poster bed, unconscious.

Harry leapt over the bed and picked her up in his arms. He fought to keep his balance with the extra weight. The fire came at him. Slowly but surely, the red flames were spreading through the smoky room.

Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket and shouted, " i Aguamenti! /i " A spurt of water came out of the wand, but there wasn't enough. The fire just sucked the water up. Harry couldn't put out such a large fire on his own, so he backed out the door and carried Ginny down the stairs, where he found George waiting for him. "You found her?" Fred's twin looked at Ginny and shook his head. "She doesn't look so good, Harry..."

"Help me get her outside," Harry shouted, cutting George off. He didn't want to think about Ginny's condition. She had to be all right...

George nodded and hurried outside. Harry looked around one last time at the house he had loved so much, that he didn't think he would ever see intact again. Then he followed George out to the backyard.

Hermione was staring up at the house, wringing her hands and crying hysterically. When she saw Harry, Ginny, and George emerge from the Burrow, she gave a little shriek, raced up to them and said, "Harry! George! You — You're alright, you found Ginny? Oh, Harry..." She had seen Ginny. Harry set her down gently on the grass.

Now that he was out of the burning house, Harry saw just how bad Ginny was. She had a great slash across her forehead, blood was trickling out of her mouth, and her lungs couldn't be good, lying in the smoke for so long.

Harry swallowed and looked round at the others. Ron, Bill, and Fleur were still unconscious. Fred and George were watching Harry, Hermione and Ginny. The owls, Hedwig, Errol, and Pigwidgeon, were all outside, hooting dolefully. Hermione's cat Crookshanks was all right, too. The humans were in the worst shape.

Harry looked back at Ginny and whispered, "Hermione?... Can you help her?..."

Hermione felt her pulse. Her eyes widened, tears welling up, and she whispered back, "Harry... I'm so sorry... There's nothing we can do... It's... She's too bad, Harry..."

"NO!" Harry shouted. "Hermione, if there's anything anyone can do, you can, please, just i try /i to save her! Please! You have to help me save her!" He refused to believe it... She couldn't be dying, she was just... just sleeping, that's all, she would wake up and everything would be fine...

Tears began falling down Hermione's face. She opened her mouth mutely, then closed it again, shaking her head.

Harry looked helplessly down at the one person he'd fallen in love with, the person he had believed would always be there for him. He realized that he couldn't deny the facts, not this time... "She's d-dying, isn't she, Hermione?"

Hermione sniffed and nodded. Behind her, Fred and George had closed their eyes in horror, the reality dawning on them, hard. Tears were now trickling down their eyes as well. Harry felt wet tears of his own stain his cheeks, and he wiped them away, angrily. Why? Why was everything, everyone he loved snatched away from him just when he'd realized that he truly cared about them? " i Why? /i " he bellowed to the sky. He broke down and wept. "Why..."

Hermione sniffed again and took her wand out. Pointing it at Ginny, she whispered, " i Enervate /i ."

Ginny stirred and opened her eyes. They were already turning glassy. Death was fast approaching.

"Harry?" she whispered. She coughed, and more blood gushed from her mouth. Harry's eyes got wet. He hated to see her like this.

"Hey," he whispered back. "How're you — how're you feeling?" It was obvious how she was feeling, but Harry felt the need to say something, something normal...

"Not too good," Ginny said softly. She grimaced and stiffly turned her head, looking around. "Where are all the others? Are they OK?"

Harry couldn't take his eyes off her. He wanted her so desperately to get better, but knew that that couldn't happen. Her body was too damaged to survive. Memories flooded his mind as he looked at her, good memories...

"Yeah, they're OK," Harry answered. "It's you we're all worried about..."

"Harry —" Ginny cut him off. "Harry, I'm dying, aren't I?"

Behind them, Hermione covered her mouth with her hands and gave a dry sob. She turned away and crumpled to the ground.

Ginny's bluntness temporarily threw Harry off. He took a deep breath and whispered, "Yes. I-I think you are, Ginny."

Ginny looked up and sighed. Then, looking back at Harry, she actually smiled. "I'm not afraid, Harry, so don't you be," she said. "I want you to promise me something."

"What?" Harry whispered. A huge lump had formed in the back of his throat, making it difficult to swallow. This hurt. It hurt so much, and there was nothing Harry could do to take the pain away.

"Don't forget me, Harry, will you? Please... whatever happens, don't forget..."

"I won't," Harry promised. A lone tear fell off his cheek. "I'll never forget you Ginny. I'll remember you forever, I promise..."

Ginny smiled again, a radiant smile that warmed Harry. For a moment he almost forget the aching loneliness he was feeling, the utter despair. For a moment he almost felt... i happy /i .

"I love you, Harry," she whispered.

And Ginny Weasley, the youngest child of her family, died.


	5. Grief

Chapter 4 — Grief

After having spoken with Ginny for the last time, Harry quietly sat there for a few moments. No one disturbed him. The events of the past few hours felt so unreal to him. This whole situation felt like a dream. Somehow he found himself reasoning, _This body must be an illusion... Yes, that's it, the Death Eaters want me to believe she's dead... But she's not, she's not..._ His eyes stared unseeingly at the burning house. He half expected to see Ginny walk out, alive and well, laughing at them all, her fiery red hair flying back in the wind.

But in his heart he knew the truth. He knew that the body in front of him was Ginny's, that she was well and truly... Harry stood abruptly and looked away from the broken body, so different from the sweet, happy, energetic person he had known. Hermione also stood up and hesitantly placed her hand on his shoulder. "Harry...?"

Harry angrily shrugged her hand off. Hermione stepped back suddenly, as if Harry had bitten her. She looked at him sadly, then knelt back down beside the cold body on the ground.

Everyone stayed like this for what felt like hours.

Then, later, Harry stood to the side as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley Apparated there, loaded with bags of groceries and other supplies. At first they didn't notice Ginny's body, lying there on the lawn. They greeted Harry warmly, put out the fire, and proceeded scolding Fred and George for setting the house on fire. Apparently this sort of thing happened quite often with Fred and George around. The twins said nothing to contradict them.

Then they looked up and saw the Dark Mark floating above the smoldering ruins of their house. Mr. Weasley finally realized what had really happened, and asked if everyone was alright. It was then that the silent crowd around Ginny's body parted. Both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley simultaneously dropped their bags in horror.

Harry didn't think he could bear it, seeing yet more people cry over his love. So, as Ginny's parents dropped to their knees by her body, he walked away. As far away as he could, so that he couldn't hear Mrs. Weasley's sobs of anguish. He arrived at a pond in the back of the smoldering Burrow. For a moment he just stood there, and seriously contemplated throwing himself into the water. Now that Ginny was gone, he had nothing left to live for, nothing to make him keep going every day. What was the point of living anymore?

But something held him back. He thought of Ron and Hermione, how they would feel if he threw away his life so drastically. He thought of everyone else who was still around, the Weasleys, Luna Lovegood, Neville... all the friends he had left. Then he thought about all there was left to do, about the task that Dumbledore had assigned to him to finish. _Voldemort's Horcruxes..._ Could he just leave the Wizarding world to its fate? To be destroyed by a creature whom only Harry could kill? In his heart he knew the answer to this question. _Of course not._

But his heart, the part of him that mattered the most right now, was torn apart, and could never heal properly again. He fell to his knees, sobbing. He pulled at the grass, tearing huge clumps out, and threw it into the pond.

Finally, his anger spent, Harry collapsed and buried his face in his arms. He quietly cried there, and nobody bothered him. He was left alone with his misery. _Ginny's gone... This can't be real... It just can't..._

At last he stood and roughly wiped his eyes. But he stayed by the water, unwilling to see Ginny's body again.

It was growing dark. As night fell, Harry still stared out over the silent pond. His jaw was clenched, and his hands were balled up into fists at his side.

Hermione came up behind him. She had been comforting the Weasleys and hadn't even realized that Harry was gone — until now. She touched his shoulder lightly with her hand and whispered, "Harry... I'm so sorry... I know how you feel..."

"No! You don't!" Harry burst in wildly. Tears began streaming down his face once again. "No one... nobody can ever understand how it feels... Losing everyone... My parents. Cedric. S-Sirius. Dumbledore. And now — now Ginny... They're all gone! And it's all my fault, Hermione... It's all my fault..."

Hermione fell silent for a moment. Then she said, "No, Harry. You're right, I can't possibly understand how you feel. Losing everyone close to you... But Harry..." She swung Harry around to face her. "It wasn't your fault, Harry," she said urgently. "It's his, and only his. It all comes down to V-Voldemort, all these deaths... That's why we have to get out there... To stop him..."

Harry started. "We?" He slowly shook his head, not meeting Hermione's eyes. "No Hermione... You and Ron... You can't come with me."

She searched Harry's face with disbelief. "What...?"

"You can't — you mustn't come with me." Harry took a deep breath. "You're all I have left... I can't lose you, too. You and Ron, you could be next — you've got to stay here." He automatically clutched at the small locket hanging around his neck. "I'll look for Voldemort's Horcruxes myself..."

"But Harry..."

"No Hermione," Harry said with finality. "I have to do this... alone."

He didn't tell her about the thoughts running through his head, that by himself his mission would most likely fail. He didn't tell her how much she and Ron really meant to him, how he'd feel if something were to happen to them.

But what Hermione didn't tell him was that she had absolutely no intention of staying behind while Harry risked his neck by himself. She was sure that Ron would feel the same way too.

What they left unsaid hung like a thick cloud between them. They looked over the pond in silence, each thinking their secret thoughts. After a few minutes, Hermione turned back to Harry, tears in her eyes, and fiercely hugged him. Then she ran back to the Burrow to see how Ron and the other Weasleys were doing.

Harry stood there, staring after Hermione, a dark silhouette against the dimming sunlight. Finally, he walked back toward the Burrow, head bowed.

He had planned on leaving right away, but Hermione and the Weasleys probably wouldn't let him go now. So he resignedly approached the front yard.

Ron was now sitting up, talking to Hermione. He looked as if he'd been crying a lot. Fleur and Bill were also slowly regaining consciousness. Harry averted his eyes from the spot where he knew Ginny was lying, refusing to see that horrible sight again. Instead of going to Ron and Hermione, he went over to Mr. Weasley, who was sitting close to Ginny's body. Mrs. Weasley was still over by Ginny, and was completely unaware of all else.

"Um..." Harry muttered awkwardly. He'd been about to tell them that he was leaving, but now that it was finally happening, he had no idea what to say. His mouth was suddenly quite dry.

Mr. Weasley looked up and stood when he saw Harry. His normally cheerful face was now tired-looking and tearstained. "Hello, Harry," he whispered. "Are you — are you alright?"

Harry felt a bit guilty that he was being asked this question, when Mr. Weasley himself looked worse than he did. "Um... I suppose I'm... okay, I guess. How're you feeling?" As soon as the words had popped out of his mouth, he felt ashamed. Of course he knew how he was feeling, miserable, obviously! Harry couldn't believe he had asked such an insensitive thing.

Mr. Weasley didn't seem to have heard the question, though. He stared ahead of himself. "I suppose you've come to say that you're leaving us already... get away from all this." He gestured around at the burnt house. The Dark Mark was still hanging above it.

"Can I ask you a favor before you do go, Harry?" he asked.

Mr. Weasley looked so mournful that Harry couldn't have said yes even if he wanted to. "Sure, anything, Mr. Weasley," he said. "What is it?" This conversation was turning into a very welcome detour for his mind away from the fact that Ginny wasn't — around anymore.

But the question he was asked was completely unexpected. "Could you just stay here until — until after Ginny's funeral?"

"Funeral?" Harry said, startled. A funeral... Of course. Thoughts of a funeral for Ginny had never even crossed his mind, though now that he thought about it, it was obvious that they would want to give Ginny a proper farewell. _So much for a detour,_ he thought wryly, but he didn't really mean it. He would never be able to stop thinking about Ginny... never...

"I know that Ginny would have..." Mt. Weasley suddenly broke off and wiped a tear from his eye. It was obvious that talking about his daughter hurt him as much as it did Harry. Harry waited sympathetically as Mr. Weasley sniffed and, clearing his throat, tried again, "I know that Ginny would've wanted you to be here for that, Harry. She — She always did think the world of you..."

Harry suddenly couldn't breathe. _She always did think the world of you..._

He felt Mr. Weasley's concerned eyes on him and quietly answered, "Of course, Mr. Weasley. I just didn't know... You know I'll stay for something that important. Of course I'll stay. For — For Ginny. You're right, she would want me there..."

"Thank you, Harry." Mr. Weasley sounded strangely relieved, as if he'd expected Harry to say no. "Thank you very, very much. This will mean a lot to everyone... the whole family. Yes... We've planned to have the f-funeral tomorrow or the day after, at sunset. That was always her favorite part of the d-day..."

This was all too much for the poor man, who at this point broke down and wept. Tears streamed down his face as he clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm so... I'm so sorry, Harry..."

"It's okay..." Harry whispered. In reality, he knew it was anything but okay, but it felt reassuring to say the phrase, as though it would somehow make everything alright.

Mr. Weasley gave Harry a very watery smile, then walked back to where Mrs. Weasley was sitting. He knelt down there beside her and Ginny.

Harry stayed in the same spot he had stood during his conversation with Mr. Weasley. He felt rooted to the ground, like he couldn't move from that spot and would never move again. Two days... Two days, and he was out. He would leave the Burrow alone and continue Dumbledore's quest to destroy the severed pieces of Voldemort's soul.

Two days.

_It's okay..._


	6. Saying Goodbye

Chapter 6 — Saying Goodbye

Harry sat at the entrance to the Burrow, head resting on his arms. The house had already been mended magically by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and apart from being a bit more crooked than before, it looked none the worse for the wear for having been burnt up. Harry dimly wondered how they had fixed it so fast, but he didn't much care. The house was the last thing on his mind as he sat there dejectedly.

It was the day of Ginny's funeral. True to Mr. Weasley's word, it had only been two days since her death, which still weighed heavily on Harry's heart. If only a broken heart could be mended with magic as easily as the house had been. Harry felt he had been torn into pieces by the Death Eaters' attack. They had taken away from him the one person who had meant the most to him, and he would never be able to recover from this brutal attack on his already fragile heart. Cedric... Sirius... Dumbledore... and now Ginny.

Harry stared blindly out over the grounds. A fresh grave had already been dug for Ginny's body. Hermione and a few of the Weasleys were milling around the site, preparing for the ceremony which would be held later in the afternoon.

Harry didn't know how he'd be able to cope with the funeral. This would be the second in three months that he'd had to attend. Dumbledore's had been bad enough — now he would have to face Ginny's, which would feel far worse, since he had been so much closer to her. At least this time there wouldn't be a big crowd of people shoving there faces at him to see how he felt. Saying their final goodbyes to Ginny would be a small, quiet affair. There would be no one there except for Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys themselves. Charlie, however, would not be able to arrive on time. Mr. Weasle had sent him an owl just that morning, and he had still not gotten an answer back. Percy the prat had also been written the horrible news, but the owl, Errol, had been sent back without a reply. Nobody had any idea how he felt or whether he was coming.

Harry felt too horrible to do anything beside sit there, but he knew he couldn't stand not doing anything either, so he stood and entered the Burrow. He began wandering aimlessly about, hands stuffed in his pockets, lost in his own thoughts.

After a moment or two he looked up and found himself in Ginny's room upstairs. How on earth had he managed to get here, of all places? There was too much in here that would remind him of his loss...

But instead of turning and leaving, Harry found himself moving forward. He looked around. The cramped room was very neat, even though it had been touched by fire in some places. There was a small bed with a pink-and-purple quilt on top. There was a small table with a lamp next to the bed. On the wall next to the bed was a big, bright poster of the Tutshill Tornados Quidditch team, with the players zooming about on their broomsticks. At the opposite wall, next to the door, a short dresser stood. Ginny's broom lay on top of it, and Harry touched it lightly, trying to feel Ginny through the wood. He remembered the time just last year when she had accidentally-on-purpose crashed into Zacharias Smith, a bratty Hufflepuff, after the Gryffindor team had won a game. Harry smiled. It felt good to remember Ginny that way, as the active, smiling person she had always been.

He started wandering around her room again. As he passed the bed, he suddenly tripped on something hard. He landed heavily, facing the underside of the bed. His round glasses had just slipped off and flown halfway across the room when he spotted a small book hidden under the bed. He reached out and grabbed it, then sat back up, dusting off his robes. Putting his glasses back on, he studied the book curiously. It looked like an ordinary diary, with a magical lock fixed to the outside. After thinking a moment, Harry pulled out his wand and lightly tapped the cover, which to Harry's complete surprise immediately sprang open. He looked at the first page. Yes, it was a diary. It was also fairly new. Feeling just a bit guilty, Harry turned the page and began reading...

_September 6_

_Today I'm going back to Hogwarts for my fifth year there. I'm so excited! I'm sure this will be a year to remember. I love our school. And magic. I'm going to try out for our Quidditch team this year. Wonder who will be the new DADA teacher?_

_Harry and Hermione are here as well, getting set to leave. Hermione and I have been talking about Harry. She says that if I just try and be myself around him, maybe he'll notice me more. I sure notice him! When he arrived, I tried doing what she said. At first I felt really weird, but after awhile it felt really nice to be around him, talking to him. I wonder if he noticed my looking at him a bit more than usual?_

_Well, it's time to go! I can't wait to see all my friends back at school. I'm going out with Dean Thomas now. He's nice, but I'm sorry to say I'm not all that interested in him as, you know, a long-term thing. I can't stop thinking about Harry! Maybe he'll get jealous and finally get up the courage to ask me out! Hmmm..._

_...I'm centered too much on him. He probably won't ever notice me anyway. I'll ask Hermione about it later, on the train. Tomorrow I'll be at Hogwarts!_

Harry smiled a little. Yes, he had noticed her, and she had gotten him jealous. He couldn't believe Hermione had been in on this whole plot to snag Harry. He turned the page. The next entry was almost two months later.

_November 3_

_Sorry I haven't been writing! Lots of stuff has been on my mind. Lemme bring you up to date: I am now a Chaser/substitute Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team! And guess who's the captain? Harry!_

_Horace Slughorn is the new teacher for Potions. He's pretty nice, but he seems a bit conceited. Almost reminds me of Lockhart, though not quite as full of himself. Snape is teaching DADA, which was a huge surprise._

_We've already won quite a few games, even though Katie wasn't around. Dean had to replace her. I think I've gotten Harry jealous! He and Ron caught us snogging in a corridor, and Ron blew up, but Harry had the funniest look on his face! Even though at the moment I was bashing on Ron, I couldn't help but notice the way Harry was staring at me, as if he'd realized for the first time that I was a girl! He can be so cute._

_Hermione really likes Ron. She won't admit it, but I can see the way she is when Ron is with his new girlfriend, Lavender. She's starting to hate Lavender. She says it's because she's so stuck-up, but I know better!_

_We're going home for Christmas soon. Hermione and Harry's coming with us, too! It's going to be a wonderful holiday! I'll try to write again soon!_

Harry grinned. He hadn't realized how smitten Ginny had been with him. He and Quidditch were the main things she liked to talk about in her diary. It wasn't really a surprise to him that Hermione liked Ron — he had also noticed how she looked when Lavender was around him. _Lav-Lav and Won-Won!_

Harry flipped through a few pages. The intervals between entries became longer and longer until he came to the last page. His grin faded as he read.

_May 27_

_This is a horrible day. I considered not writing in here, because I don't want to have to relive what's happened. But I feel I have to just get it out._

_When the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts a few nights ago, Professor Dumbledore was killed by Snape, who's turned out to still be loyal to You-Know-Who. He ran off with Draco Malfoy, who apparently was supposed to kill Dumbledore but chickened out at the last moment. Good riddance to the little ferret (ha-ha)._

_Bill got hurt real bad by a werewolf, but he's now doing okay. Phlegm and Bill's wedding is still on for the summer. Today we had a funeral for the Headmaster. It felt horrible! I hope I never have to go to another funeral for someone I knew and cared about._

Here Harry's eyes watered, and he stopped for a moment to clean his glasses, which had gotten very foggy. _She never did have to go to another funeral,_ Harry thought sadly. _Instead, we have to go to hers._

He pulled a stray tissue from his robes and forcefully blew his nose. He then continued reading.

_Harry looks terrible. I think he feels responsible for what happened. After the funeral he came up to me and told me that we couldn't be together anymore. (Yes, we did eventually get together.) I love Harry so much, but I think I understand why he had to go. He said that You-Know-Who would try to get at me if he knew I was so important to him. I hated his choice; I wanted to stay with him forever. Some of the happiest days of my life were spent with him. I'll miss him so much. I think I've fallen in love, diary... I wish..._

Here the entry suddenly cut off. Harry stopped and closed the book again. Two months later, Ginny had been brutally murdered, and he didn't want to think about that right now. He replaced the diary under the bed and stood up, trying to wipe away any trace of tears from his face.

He suddenly heard someone coming up the stairs, so he ran to the door and tried to look as if he hadn't been in Ginny's room. Hermione appeared at the top of the staircase.

"Harry?" she said hesitantly. Harry knew why she was acting so meek; last time he had talked to her, he'd blown up in her face. He felt bad about it, but wasn't sure quite how to apologize. "Harry... we're ready to start outside. Are you — are you coming?"

Harry nodded silently. Hermione looked like she wanted to say something else, but she apparently changed her mind and went back downstairs.

After standing there a moment as if he were frozen, Harry shook himself and followed Hermione's lead. In the kitchen, by the front door, he stopped and looked back, taking everything in. He planned to leave that night, if he could, and he didn't know if he'd ever see the Burrow again. How he loved this house! _I first met Ginny in this very room_, he thought. Tears came to his eyes as he remembered. He finally turned abruptly and exited the house, to the Weasleys' yard.

Hermione and the Weasley family were gathered around the grave they'd dug for Ginny's body. She was on the lawn next to it, in a beautiful wooden casket. As Harry approached it, the casket seemed to shimmer, making it obvious that it had been made magically.

Ron and Hermione stood partly away from everyone else, holding hands to comfort each other. Ron looked behind him and, seeing Harry, nudged Hermione on the shoulder. She also looked back, and seemed to be surprised to see Harry. That wasn't very surprising, though. He hadn't spoken to either of them since Ginny's death.

Ron and Hermione both moved over to make room for their friend, but Harry walked past them, to the rest of the Weasley family. He didn't really feel like talking to them just now, so he stood next to Fred and George in front of the grave.

Mr. Weasley strode forward. He opened his mouth to begin the funeral, but suddenly someone Apparated behind him with a loud _crack_. He and all the others spun around simultaneously to see who it was. To Harry's complete surprise, Percy had just appeared on the Burrow lawn. Looking around at everyone else, Harry saw that they hadn't been expecting Percy to come at all, either.

Percy didn't look at anyone. He just came forward, head bowed, until he stopped at Ginny's grave. Then he just stood there, waiting silently for Mr. Weasley to speak.

Mr. Weasley seemed flustered by Percy's appearance, and didn't say anything for a moment. Then he took a deep breath.

"We are here today to remember and celebrate the life of our beloved Ginny. We all knew her, of course. She was close to each of us, and I'm sure you'll all miss her as much as I d-do—" Harry's eyes welled with tears. Mr. Weasley broke down for a moment, then gulped and continued. "I'm sorry... She was a daughter, sister, friend, and—" here he glanced at Harry "—perhaps more than just a friend, to some. She was loyal, trustworthy, and had a great zest for life." He smiled a bit. "Frankly, I'm sure she would hate such a solemn gathering, especially for her. She'd probably expect a happier funeral, like she lived."

Harry smiled to himself. Yes, she always was one for living, Ginny. She would hate a quiet, sad funeral like this. He would miss her so...

Mr. Weasley continued, "As I'm sure many of you know from experience, she had a horrible temper. She could go from happy and joking to moody and angry in three seconds, and I know this because Fred and George actually timed her on it once."

Fred grinned a bit, remembering, and elbowed George in the ribs. Harry heard him as he whispered, "Remember that, George? She got so mad at us when she found out we were doing it..."

"...that she smashed our timer to pieces," George finished. He grinned too. "That was brilliant."

"Ahem." Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and looked down at the twins warningly. They immediately stopped talking. Mr. Weasley continued, "She knew who her friends were, and stuck by them to the end. Despite her temper, she was incredibly loyal. She was also a great fighter, our Ginny. She was very stubborn. Once she got her head around some idea, she would never let go, no matter how fierce the argument. When Ginny made up her mind, she never changed it, not for anything."

Harry nodded. That had indeed been one of Ginny's most... entertaining qualities. She'd argue for hours to get the conversation going in her advantage. Harry remembered once, when he and Ron had found her kissing Dean. She had yelled and screamed at Ron until he couldn't think of anything else to say, then gone in for the kill, getting the last word in before stomping away. Ginny had always been able to get the last word.

Harry turned his attention back to Mr. Weasley, who now seemed to be fumbling for words. "...I'm glad you could all be here, today. I'm sure Gnny would be glad, too, having her family together again..." Harry was sure he was referring to Percy, and he automatically looked over to Percy, trying to guess his reaction. Surprisingly, he was crying; still staring at the ground, but crying nonetheless.

Almost everyone around Harry was crying, but Harry himself wasn't. He didn't know what was the matter with him. He just knew that he couldn't cry for Ginny. Perhaps he had already cried all his tears out, with Sirius and Dumbledore and everyone who had gone before them. Perhaps his subconscious didn't want to cry because Ginny wouldn't have liked it. For whatever reason, Harry couldn't cry, so he stood there numbly, staring at her casket.

"Erm..." Mr. Weasley said awkwardly. "If you'd all like to... say goodbye to her, before we bury the casket..."

Everybody stood frozen for a moment, each unwilling to be the first person to approach the grave. Finally, Percy strode up, swiping at his eyes. They all watched as he looked miserably down at Ginny, then said quietly, "I'm sorry... for snapping at you whenever you'd bother me... I wish I had another chance..." He swallowed, then reached into his robes pocket and pulled out a small red rose, which he placed tenderly on top of the lid. "Goodbye..." he whispered. He glanced up and stiffened when he saw Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys staring at him. He quickly backed away and stood awkwardly a few feet from the grave.

The rest of the Weasleys slowly followed suit, going up to Ginny and murmuring their last words to her. Ron and Hermione went up together and came away crying, hugging each other for support. Harry watched them, wishing he was with them, but felt he had to do this alone. Such support would have been nice, but Harry doubted it would help him.

Finally, he was the only one left. He clenched his teeth and approached slowly, mind racing. What was he supposed to say to the lifeless body of one who had been so close to him?

Reaching the casket, he looked down at Ginny's pale face. Her eyes were closed, and there seemed to be a hint of a smile on her lips. Her flaming red hair was neatly arranged around her head. Her hands were folded carefully on her chest. Harry's eyes watered. She looked so beautiful, even in death. If he hadn't seen her die, he would have believed that she was only sleeping.

A mixture of feelings bubbled up inside Harry as he stood there, staring down at her lifeless face. He was tired, so tired of this... realizing how much he cared for people like Sirius, and Ginny... then having them cruelly snatched away. He was angry, hating the Dark side more and more every time he lost someone.

Harry gently brushed a tendril of hair from Ginny's pale forehead. He suddenly remembered something Dumbledore had told him, less than a year ago... _"You are protected, in short, by your ability to love."_ Harry snorted. _More like a curse than protection, love is,_ he thought bitterly. _Every time I start to love someone, get close to them... So many people have died, now, you'd think I'd know better..._

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but a huge lump had lodged itself in his throat. He fought the horrible feeling for a moment, uncomfortably aware of the Weasleys' eyes on his back. Finally he gave up and stood there, still as a stone, as a single tear trickled down his face. He stopped struggling for the words to say, and instead thought his last words to Ginny.

_I'm so sorry we didn't have more time together, Ginny. But I-I'm glad we had the time we did. You were so wonderful, such a great friend, a great person... I'm sure you fought it till the end. I'm so proud of you, Ginny. I love you so much... I hope you knew just how much..._

Tears were freely cascading down his cheeks now. Emotion filled Harry's heart as memories flew unbidden through his mind.

Ginny, sending Harry a singing valentine her first year... Ginny, working to pull Ron and Hermione together... refusing to speak in front of him, she used to be so shy... Ginny, dancing at the Yule Ball, red hair floating behind her as she twirled around, laughing... Ginny, fighting side by side with Harry in the Department of Mysteries... making everyone grin with her sarcastic comments at Quidditch practice... Ginny, laughing at Ron and his brief romance with Lavender Brown...

The memories were coming thicker and faster now. Harry slumped against her casket, overcome with grief. He let the memories pour out like blood from a wound, trying to alleviate this pain, this unspeakable pain.

Ginny, who liked to call Fleur Delacour "Phlegm"... whose raging temper had earned her a reputation at Hogwarts... Harry kissing Ginny... Ginny... Ginny...

Memories swept by so quickly they turned into a blur. All Harry could see was Ginny's face, over and over again... sweet, sweet Ginny... If Harry hadn't been so blind, they could have had years more together... but her time had now run out, and there was nothing Harry could do.

"Goodbye, Ginny," he whispered. He leaned down and tenderly kissed her, for the last time. Stepping away, he wiped his eyes and looked at everyone else. Mr. Weasley met Harry's gaze, and Harry saw the question there. He nodded, and stood back as Mr. Weasley carefully closed the casket and lowered it into the grave. "Goodbye..." Harry repeated, swallowing hard.

She was gone.

_A couple hours later..._

Harry sat miserably back on the front steps of the Burrow. He had planned to leave right after the funeral, but now that it came to it, he felt strangely reluctant to leave. He watched as Mr. Weasley magically put the final touches on Ginny's tombstone with his wand. Ron and Hermione wandered aimlessly around the lawn. Everyone else was inside, but Harry didn't feel like facing them all right now.

After a few minutes, he sighed and stood up. There was no point in delaying his exit; if anything, staying longer would make him feel worse when he did eventually leave. But instead of going inside to say goodbye, he cut through the side of the house. He wanted to avoid saying any more goodbyes... It had been painful enough doing so to Ginny. He just wanted to go without further heartbreak.

He reached the place in the yard where he'd dropped his backpack. He slowly shrugged it on, then whistled for Hedwig. His owl dropped from the sky as if she'd been waiting for him to call.

"Ready to get out of here, Hedwig?" he said quietly. Hedwig nipped his finger in answer and settled more comfortably on his shoulder. Harry knew he should smile, but he felt as though nothing would ever make him smile — or laugh — again. Ginny always could make him crack a smile...

Harry forced any thought of her out of his mind and grimly strode toward the front lawn. He approached Mr. Weasley first. He had his back to Harry, but when Harry opened his mouth to speak, the older man sighed and said, "So, you're really going, Harry?"

The question caught Harry off-guard. He stammered for a moment, then said, "Yes... um..."

Mr. Weasley turned around. Harry was embarrassed to see tear stains on his face. "Harry... Thank you for staying. Till today, I mean. I know... I know how difficult it must have been for you, to see her like that..." He took a deep breath. "Believe me, it's likely no one else understands how you're feeling as well as I. Just... Thank you."

"Yeah," Harry said softly. They were both quiet for a moment, staring down at Gnny's grave. Finally Harry blurted, "Listen, Mr. Weasley, it's not that I don't want to stay, it's just — "

Mr. Weasley raised his hand, cutting Harry off in mid-sentence, and placed it on his shoulder. "I know this is something you have to do, Harry. Please, just — be careful, alright? I'm sure we'll see each other again."

He squeezed Harry's shoulder, then turned and walked away, head bowed. Harry felt immense guilt, watching Mr. Weasley walk away, but he knew he had no choice. This was something he had to do on his own.

He turned and kept walking. As he rounded the corner he saw Ron and Hermione. _At least say a proper goodbye,_ a small voice insisted. Harry reluctantly found himself walking to his two friends.

Hermione looked up and, seeing Harry, nudged Ron in the side. Ron immediately looked up too and stopped walking. He tried to grin, but couldn't quite manage it. "Hey, Harry."

"Hey," Harry said.

He swallowed. He struggled to fill in the silence, but Ron beat him to it. "Harry — Are you really planning to leave without us?"

"Yeah, Ron... I'm actually leaving right — right now," Harry said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Listen, Harry... Are you mental, you can't go without us, you'll get yourself killed!" Ron stood and shoved his face into Harry's. The look of worry on his face was overwhelming, and Harry broke eye contact first. "You're crazy, if Dumbledore couldn't get the Horcruxes himself, you sure can't!..."

At this, Harry exploded. "So Dumbledore was stupid, was he? He trusted Snape, got himself killed, and was stupid, is that what you're saying?"

Ron slowly backed away from Harry. He shook his head and turned around, crossing his arms angrily. Hermione jumped in. "Harry, please. You know that's not what Ron meant, now stop it!" Her voice rose hysterically. She seemed to be on the verge of tears. "We're just worried about you! We want to help, and you won't let us!"

Harry opened his mouth to contradict her, but the words were frozen in his throat. He knew she was right. They stared at each other.

"Tell everyone else I said bye, alright?" Harry whispered. Hermione shook her head suddenly, as if willing Harry not to go. Her eyes seemed to plead with him as she looked at him. They stood that way, for several long, uncomfortable minutes.

Harry couldn't take it anymore. He finally turned and walked away, leaving Hermione staring after him. She shouted, "_Harry, wait!_" but he ignored her. _Don't look back, don't look back, don't look back..._ Tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to listen to Hermione's pleading voice. After a few minutes, she fell silent, and Harry could hear Ron talking with her. But he didn't look back. He walked away from the Burrow, away from the only family he had ever known. Away from Ron, Hermione, and the Weasleys. Away from Ginny...

But as he walked he made up his mind. He knew with an absolute certainty where he was going to go. He would head back to his first home. To his parents' home.

Back to Godric's Hollow.


	7. Godric's Hollow

Chapter 6 — Godric's Hollow

Harry sat by the side of a narrow dirt road, resting his tired body. It had been several days since he had first set off from the Burrow, he'd lost count of just how many, and he was exhausted. No one was passing through this deserted road, so he had been forced to walk for many grueling miles.

His robes were rumpled, and his hair was even messier than usual, but either Harry didn't care or he didn't notice. All he wanted was to get to Godric's Hollow in one piece.

After sitting a few minutes, he stood back up and sighed heavily. The going was even harder without Ron and Hermione to help pass the time. He missed them so much, but knew it had been necessary to leave them behind. Harry would never have forgiven himself if something had happened to the both of them.

Harry began trotting quietly down the road. Hedwig glided down behind him and settled on his shoulder with a contented hoot. Harry smiled halfheartedly. At least someone was happy.

A meters more along the road, he began to get the shivery feeling that he was being followed. He glanced back and saw nothing, but that did nothing to ease the feeling. He warily continued, treading as lightly as possible, trying to catch whoever was following him. After a moment, his efforts paid off. He heard a soft rustling sound in the grass by the side of the road. It sounded almost like — a snake? Harry's insides turned to ice, and his heart sank as the noise continued. _Nagini,_ he thought with dismay.

Harry stopped again, and the snake he was sure was behind him stopped too. _Okay, think, Harry_, he told himself. _The snake can't follow fast enough if you get on your Firebolt, but flying is too risky... and she'd be sure to catch me if I made a run for it... I guess there's only one thing I can do..._

He gritted his teeth as he stepped forward. Harry had never liked Apparating, but it was his only remaining option. But if the Ministry caught him, without a license...

"To hell with the Ministry," he muttered fiercely. "Like they care what I do anyway..." He closed his eyes and twisted around, concentrating on his destination: Godric's Hollow. _Godric's Hollow, Godric's Hollow, Godric's Hollow..._

Harry felt the now-familiar sensation of being pulled inside-out, and suddenly toppled over onto the grass. _Wait a minute... grass? I was standing on the road, a dirt road, wasn't I?_

He pushed himself up and stood, brushing himself off. Then he raised his head and looked around. He'd done it! At least... he'd gotten somewhere. The small village in which Harry had landed didn't match his idea of Godric's Hollow at all.

This Godric's Hollow was basically a ghost town. Half the houses were in ruins, and the ones that weren't were boarded up. A few looked in good condition, but the windows were shattered, the walls graffitied. The whole village seemed to be completely deserted.

Harry closed his eyes. He wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting to find, but it wasn't this. He'd thought there would at least be people still living here, but that assumption had been wrong, too. What had been the point in coming here?

He suddenly heard a loud crash. Harry's eyes flew open and looked around to see what had made the noise. He could hardly believe what he saw.

An old woman was kneeling in the rubble of one of the houses, picking up the broken pieces of a ceramic bowl and muttering to herself. She had a stooped back and wild, frizzy white hair. She wore a ragged brown dress and a moth-eaten shawl, and seemed to be completely unaware of her observer.

Harry hadn't thought he would see anyone living here. He stared at her. After a moment or two of rummaging around the dirt and stones, the woman glanced up and jumped back, apparently as surprised to see Harry as he was to see her.

Then after her initial fright, she stared back at him, with large, penetrating brown eyes.

"Who are you?" Harry croaked. His mouth was suddenly very dry. He swallowed nervously as the old lady shuffled forward a few steps, never taking her eyes off his face.

He knew nothing about her, and didn't know if it would be wise to speak to her, to give her any information about himself, but Harry decided to try anyway. He swallowed again and said, "I'm — I'm Harry Potter. I'm looking for something, I didn't know if you'd help me find it?" No response. The woman just continued inspecting his face. Her eyes lingered a second on the scar on his forehead, and something about the look on her face seemed to change.

Harry was about to speak again when the old woman blurted, "You are Harry Potter."

She had a raspy voice that sounded unused. Harry blinked, then stammered, "Y-yes... I just..."

"I know what you are looking for," she interrupted. She looked around shiftily, then said quietly, "Come closer, Harry Potter. You seek certain items belonging to the one they call _You-Know-Who_."

She stated this very matter-of-factly, as if she knew what he was thinking. Harry wasn't even sure if that was what he was here for. Just the idea of visiting his first home had drawn him to Godric's Hollow. But he had to admit he was searching for Voldemort's Horcruxes... And if the woman knew something...

Harry nodded slowly. "Yes... yes, I am. Do you —"

"The Dark Lord has returned and you seek the four hidden keys to his defeat!" the old woman said loudly. Harry gasped. How did she know how many Horcruxes were left? Or was she bluffing, trying to make him believe she knew about his search? _But then how does she know my name? Why is this lady here, wandering about the exact place I Apparated to?_

"You seek the keys to his defeat!" she repeated. Her eyes had gotten glassy, and she looked almost like...

But no. She couldn't possibly be a Seer... could she? But she did look exactly like Professor Trelawney had, that day in the tower... when Harry had heard her speak the prophecy that Wormtail would escape, that Voldemort would soon come back...

The old woman continued in her harsh voice, staring blindly in Harry's direction. "Many trials lie in the road you must take. You will lose many, but must continue on for the sake of those you love! You stand near to the first clue of this puzzle, near to the completion of the first step of the path you have chosen... One close to your life but not your heart unknowingly holds the first piece of the Dark Lord's soul! Foes will meet as the last battle draws nigh! _'For neither can live while the other survives...'_"

Harry's mouth dropped open, and he almost fell backwards. How did she know about the prophecy, Trelawney's prophecy that had caused the death of his parents?

The woman stumbled. When she looked up again, she seemed dazed, confused. _As if she didn't even know what she just told me... 'Near to the first clue of this puzzle...'_

"Where —" Harry began.

The woman suddenly jumped up and slowly backed away from him. As she turned to run away, she shrieked madly, "The secret lies with the blood of the Evanses!"

Harry blinked his eyes for the briefest moment in time, and when he opened them again, the old lady was gone.

* * *

Harry spent almost an hour wandering through the deserted village, trying to figure out the message — or prophecy? — that the mysterious old woman had given him. 'Trials...' Well, he hadn't really expected to get through this unscathed anyway... Just look at Ginny... _No. Don't look at Ginny._ He forced the thought away and turned his attention back to the message. 'Foes will meet...' Perhaps she was referring to Harry and Voldemort? Or his Death Eaters? And why had she quoted that particular part of Trelawney's prophecy? _'For neither can live while the other survives...'_

Harry kicked at a piece of rock that had lodged itself in a dip in the grass. 'One close to your life but not your heart unknowingly holds the first piece of the Dark Lord's soul.' What did that mean? Harry stopped walking and frowned. So someone he had known for a long time had a Horcrux? Someone he wasn't really close to? But who? Harry could think of many different people who fit that description.

'The secret lies with the blood of the Evanses.' Harry sat down on a board sticking through the rubble of a house. Evans, Evans... Lily! His mother! 'The secret lies with the blood of the Evanses.' Had his mother's family known about the Horcruxes? And why bother saying 'blood of the Evanses', why not just say the name? He had to know more... If only Dumbledore were here, Dumbledore would know what to do...

Harry stood up suddenly. But there was a way he could contact the Headmaster! The portrait... the portrait in his office, it could help. Just how much could a portrait do, though?

"I've got to get back to Hogwarts," he said aloud, more to himself than anything. He walked over a stone in the way, and at that very moment he heard the snap of a stick being stepped on, just behind him.

Harry froze. Was he still being followed? He silently ducked around the side of a house nearby and drew his wand, heart pounding. He heard someone talking, then somebody else answered. _There's more than one!_ One Death Eater could cause quite a lot of damage on his own, but Harry knew he wouldn't be able to hold off several, not by himself.

He listened. Someone was saying, "...he said he was coming! He's got to be around here somewhere."

Another voice replied, "Well, what if he knew we'd follow, and just said that to put us off his trail? After all..."

The second voice faded, as if its owner were moving away, but Harry heard somebody else move closer to his hiding place. "Hang on... I think I might have found something..."

It was now or never. If Harry was to take the Death Eaters by surprise, the time was now, before they found him first. The voices were familiar, but Harry put that out of his mind... Who else would be sneaking around a — mostly — deserted village?

Taking a deep breath, Harry jumped around the corner and rammed into someone, who yelled in surprise. Harry pinned the wriggling person to the ground and jammed his wand at his victim's throat.

"What the bloody... Harry! Harry, you prat, watch where you're sticking that thing! What're you trying to do, kill your best mate?"

Harry pulled the wand away and gasped, "Ron!"

The freckly face of his friend stared up at him, wearing a bemused expression. "Yeah! Who'd you think it was, You-Know-Who? The way you jumped me I expect you did. Can you get off me now?"

Harry pulled back and leaned against the wall, staring at Ron and breathing heavily. Ron sat up and looked himself over, as if checking to make sure he was still in one piece. Then he grinned at Harry. "Surprised?"

Harry suddenly got his breath back and said loudly, "Ron, you idiot, d'you know how close I got to hexing you?"

Ron yawned unconcernedly. "Yeah, I guess it was kind of risky, but I knew you'd want to get a good look at the person you'd jumped before you cursed him. You know, 'know your enemy' and all that. I suppse I figured right. So y'see, it didn't turn out too bad!"

Harry felt his face turning red. Why had they followed him, after all the trouble he'd gone to to make them — _them_. "Where's Hermione?" he asked.

Ron fidgeted as he stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Well, um... She's back there, Harry, but... Harry, we thought you'd want some company... So, uh, Hermione and me, we asked —"

"No," Harry said. He could tell where this was leading, and he didn't like it. "No. No, no, you better not have done what I'm thinking. You two better not have dragged somebody else into —"

Just then, Hermione came running around the corner. "Oh, good, Ron, you found him. Neville heard you yell, and we thought someone might have —"

Harry interrupted, "Wait!" He turned to Ron, an incredulous look on his face. "You brought_ Neville_ into this? Of all the people you could have chosen, you had to pick _Neville!_"

Ron became defensive. He put up his hands and said, "Hey, we didn't have that many options. Besides, we had to bring some backup."

Harry put his face in his hands. This couldn't be happening. All his perfect plans were being rudely trampled, first by Nagini, then by the old woman, now by Ron and Hermione. How many more unpleasant surprises were on the way?

By this time, Harry half-expected to see Voldemort pop out of the ground in front of him. So many bizarre things were happening, he felt sure that something like that would not be out of the ordinary.

Suddenly another possibility occurred to him. He lifted his head and stared at Ron and Hermione, who both looked extremely guilty. "You brought — you didn't bring someone _else_ along, did you?" he asked sharply.

They glanced at each other, and Harry's fears were confirmed. He stood and started pacing around. He scowled at his friends and crossed his arms. "Brilliant. Just brilliant. Who else did you get? Wait, let me guess," he said sarcastically. "A Squib? An old Muggle? Some random person you didn't even know till now?"

Ron began to answer, looking exasperated, when Neville came running up, with another person close behind. Neville gasped for breath, then grinned at Harry. "Hi, Harry! Knew we'd catch up to you sooner or later."

But Harry was staring at the girl behind him in disbelief. Wide, misty blue eyes... frizzy hair... a bright yellow sweater that read, "Protect Our Wizards! Down With The Rotfang Conpiracy!" Harry's mouth dropped open as the girl said dreamily, "Oh... Hello, Harry. Are you fighting with Ron and Hermione again, already?"

Harry rounded on his two friends. "Luna. You dragged _Luna_ into all this? Are you crazy?"

He saw Luna nod her head wisely. "Yes, you are fighting again. And I wasn't dragged at all, I happily volunteered. Lovely day, isn't it?"

Harry felt like screaming. Instead, he controlled himself and with great effort asked, "Did you two tell them anything?"

Ron snorted. "Are you kidding? You think Neville's gran would let him go anywhere without a proper explanation? We had to tell her, and Neville and Luna, everything about the Horcruxes and You-Know-Who, and she swore not to speak a word of it to anyone."

Neville added, "And Gran can keep a secret. When she says she won't talk, she never will." He turned to face Harry and said, "She'd just about locked me in the house when Ron, Hermione, and Luna came along. Frightened You-Know-Who might try something, since my mum and dad..." He trailed off, but everyone knew what he meant. Neville's parents had been tortured to insanity by Voldemort's followers.

Breaking the awkward silence, Luna blinked and said, "Neville's grandmother is very nice."

They all laughed. "I'm sure," Harry agreed. He turned back to Hermione, and she stopped laughing. "Why'd you follow me, even when I'd asked you not to?" he asked. "It was all for your own good! Who knows what could happen..."

Hermione shook her head. "You don't understand, Harry. We knew the risks, but we came anyway. We couldn't just let you face all this alone! Isn't that what friends do? We brought Luna and Neville along because we thought _we_ might need some help, getting to you."

Ron interrupted, "You gave us quite a scare back there, Disapparating on us like that. Me and Hermion, we weren't sure whether you'd really come here or not. But here we all are, and I didn't even splinch myself!" He felt himself all over, as if confirming his statement. He grinned. "Not even an eyebrow missing! Ol' Twycross would be pleased."

Harry sighed, now resigned to the fact that he would be having company on his journey.

"I think it's very brave of you, Harry, going off to save the Wizarding world and so on," Luna said calmly. "If you manage it, maybe Dad will even put the story in the Quibbler. Another best-seller, I expect."

Harry rubbed his forehead in exasperation and looked at the four of them, standing there, eagerly awaiting his words. At that moment he suddenly remembered the strange old woman. In the excitement of finding Ron and Hermione, he had completely forgotten about her cryptic message.

Harry quickly relayed the story to Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville. Luna didn't seem at all surprised, but, Harry thought, perhaps these sorts of things were everyday occurrences to her. Ron, Hermione, and Neville, on the other hand, looked astonished. Hermione gave an audible gasp when Harry told them about the woman's message.

After he had finished, Harry fell silent, waiting for their opinion. Ron seemed to be in a state of shock, while Hermione looked like she was already trying to puzzle it all out. Neville's mouth was hanging open. Harry was sure he had never encountered anything like this before.

Finally, Ron blinked and said, "Whoa. As if things weren't weird enough already. Now we've got some mad old lady tottering around, spewing prophecies and breaking dishes... Better watch out... She might start attacking people next..."

Hermione ignored him and, frowning, murmured, "'The secret lies with the blood of the Evanses...' Could that be your mother, Harry?"

"That's what I reckon," Harry said thoughtfully. "I was actually planning on going to Hogwarts... to talk with Professor Dumbledore's portrait about it... Maybe he knows something."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up into her hair. "That's a pretty good idea, Harry. Do you know exactly how much a portrait can do, though?"

Neville jumped in before Harry could answer. "But isn't Hogwarts closed?"

"What?" Harry started. Hogwarts closed? He had never even considered the possibility.

"Yeah. My gran got a letter in the post, from McGonagall. What with You-Know-Who in the open, and Dumbledore gone, she didn't want to risk anything happening to the students, so she closed it down. Didn't you get a letter too?"

"No," Harry said, stunned. Hogwarts was closed. Now how would they get into the Head's office, to the portraits?

Luna voiced his fears. "So... If the school is closed, and we can't smuggle Harry in or Apparate or anything..."

"...we're sunk," Ron finished. "There's no way we can get in there, so there's no way we can get into Dumbledore's office." He looked at Hermione. "Your turn, Hermione. Put that brilliant mind of yours to work and tell us how we can sneak in."

"You can't sneak in!" Hermione snapped. "I've told you a hundred times, there are Stealth charms aa around the castle and everything, if you ever read 'Hogwarts: A History', you'd know —"

She stopped. Her eyes widened. Harry and the others leaned in as she breathed, "But if one could Apparate into another place on the grounds... A whole other building, that wouldn't have any charms or blocks..."

"Yes?" Harry said, a bit impatiently.

"Hagrid's hut!" Hermione blurted, a pleased look on her face. "We could Apparate into Hagrid's hut! Then he can help us get into the school! It's perfect!"

"Wait..." Harry said slowly. "You're saying we could actually get right into Hagrid's hut? But Dumbledore said — Isn't it kind of rude, Apparating into someone's house?"

"Yes, yes, but we know Hagrid well, he's our friend! I'm sure he wouldn't mind," Hermione answered excitedly, pacing up and down. Then she stopped and looked round at everyone else. "What do you think?"

They all looked at each other. Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron, who shrugged in response. Neville had an excited look on his plump face, while Luna just seemed detached and in her own little world. _As usual,_ Harry thought.

"Guess we're all in," Harry said. He still didn't like it that they were coming with him, but, as in the Ministry of Magic two years ago, they had minds of their own, uncaring for their own safety_. But this time they won't have Ginny,_ Harry thought. His eyes felt suspiciously wet. He tried to think about her as little as possible, but small things like this reminded him far too often of the fact that she was gone.

Neville interrupted Harry's thoughts with an exclamation. "Wow! Breaking into Hogwarts! I'll bet we're the only ones who've ever tried to do that!"

"That will make another good story," Luna said, looking faintly interested. "Second only to that sighting of a yeti in Poland, I think."

Hermione snorted in disbelief. Ron and Harry grinned at each other. It would be nice having Luna with them; she was always good for a laugh, whether she meant to be or not. The feud between her crazy ideas and Hermione's practical thinking would be fun to watch, too.

Harry took a deep breath, forcing all thought of Ginny out of his mind. "Well... If we're all agreed..."

Ron jumped up and flung his arms out, looking like a demented bird. Harry tried to hide a smile as Ron said, "Let's go!"

Harry looked at Hermione and saw the doubt in her eyes. What would happen if she was wrong, if they couldn't Apparate into Hagrid's hut? Could something much worse than splinching happen to them?

_Well, we might as well try,_ he thought. He grimly nodded to the others. "On the count of three, then?" he asked. For answer, Hermione slowly began to count.

"One..."

Harry prepared himself. _Destination, determination, deliberation..._ He pictured Hagrid's small home in his mind and twisted around.

"Two..."

Harry held his breath and, closing his eyes, took a few tentative steps away from the other four, who were presumably doing the same thing. How Hermione could count and concentrate at the same time was a mystery to Harry. There — he was getting distracted already... _Destination, determination, deliberation... Hagrid's hut... Destination, determination, deliberation..._

"Three!"


	8. Breaking Into Hogwarts

Chapter 8—Breaking Into Hogwarts

Spinning, spinning... _This is going to be a big one,_ Harry remembered thinking as he was pulled inside-out and crushed, as he was torn into little pieces. He didn't even care anymore if they got into Hagrid's hut or not, he just wanted this to end. He vaguely wondered if Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna felt the same way.

And then, it was over, just as suddenly as it had started. Harry was facedown on a rough wooden floor. He turned his head to see how the other four had done, getting splinters all over his face in the process. He slowly opened his eyes. Ron was lying there, in the same position Harry was. His face was screwed up as if he didn't know the painful Apparition was already over.

Harry rolled himself onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. It was completely dark. The ceiling looked like a big slab of wood, no decorations, no color, nothing. It seemed a bit too close to Harry for a ceiling, but he attributed its closeness to the aftereffects of Apparating.

After a moment of staring up, Harry groaned and pulled himself to a sitting position. The next second he swore loudly as his head smacked into the "ceiling", which he realized was the underside of Hagrid's bed. He coughed, eyes streaming, and gritted his teeth against the extreme pain in his head.

He heard something above him roar, and he was unceremoniously pulled from under the bed by the neck and lifted ten feet into the air. Through his tearful eyes, he could just make out the massive silhouette of Rubeus Hagrid himself. "Hagrid!" Harry choked. But Hagrid apparently didn't hear him, and it was too dark for Hagrid to be able to recognize his friend. The half-giant stuck his big hairy face into Harry's and bellowed, "WHAT'RE YOU DOING HERE?" He tightened his grip on Harry's neck.

The pain in his head subsided a bit, just enough for Harry to gasp, "Hagrid! It's me! Harry!"

Hagrid abruptly dropped Harry, who gratefully gulped in as much air as he could. The fall didn't help his head, however, and Harry felt the pain slowly evolving into a monster of a headache. He closed his eyes. Somewhere above him, he heard Hagrid switch on a light.

"What the — Blimey, Harry, it is you!"

Harry was swept into a crushing bear hug, and he was certain he felt another of his bones break. Hagrid gently put him down and said, "What're you doing here, Harry? An' how'd you get in under my bed?"

Harry groggily put up a hand. His head was spinning, and Hagrid seemed to be standing on the wall, which Harry knew mustn't be right. "Ugh... Can I please sit down, Hagrid? I don't — I don't feel so good."

"Oh, yeah... Sorry 'bout tha'..." Hagrid led Harry to the bed, and Harry gingerly sat down, taking care not to jolt his head.

Slowly, his breath began to come back, and the pounding in his head eased. He told Hagrid how the other four had caught him up in Godric's Hollow, and how they'd Apparated to the little hut. When Hagrid heard that Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna were also there, he began to search for them. He pulled Ron out from under the bed, then found Luna draped over the back of a chair. Neville had somehow managed to end up in the rafters, where he was hanging on for dear life when Hagrid found him. Hermione had Apparated into a small closet at the other end of the hut, and was much less battered than the others had been. Hedwig had somehow been able to come along, too, and was now happily perched on the headboard of Hagrid's bed.

After they'd all been somewhat revived, they sat on the edge of the bed and Hagrid pulled up a chair across, staring at them. A few minutes later he said, "So... Why exactly did you need t' get in 'ere at the same time anyways?"

Hermione said quickly, "We have to get into Hogwarts, Hagrid, and we need your help doing it. That — that's why we came in here, first, because we knew we couldn't get into the castle otherwise."

Hagrid raised one bushy eyebrow. "An' why is getting' into Hogwarts so important? Harry?"

Harry glanced at the other four, who looked at him expectantly. He sighed. i Great. Guess I'm going to have to do all the explainig myself. /i "We need to get into the Headmaster's office, to talk with Dumbledore's portrait there. Erm... We have to ask it about — about —"

Suddenly the whole story spilled out. Dumbledore gathering information about Voldemort's life; Harry's "lessons"; finding the fake Horcrux, which Harry still wore around his neck; the long, dismal summer at Privet Drive...

When he got to Ginny's death, Harry's voice caught, and he tried to get the words out, struggling against tears. Hagrid hadn't known Ginny well, but he cried anyway, drenching himself in giant tears. He finally got out a huge handkerchief from his pocket and forcefully blew his nose.

Luna and Neville, on the other hand, had known Ginny well, but hadn't heard about her death either. Neville was crying into the pillow. Luna just sat there, looking as detached as ever, but traces of moisture betrayed her emotion. Ron and Hermione too looked on the verge of tears.

This was horrible. It was as if Harry were back at Ginny's funeral, only ten times worse. He'd tried to think of her as little as possible, but something like this was just too much.

Harry clenched his fists and swiped at his eyes. "Hagrid!" he said loudly.

Hagrid looked up. "Wha'? Oh yeah..." He gave an enormous sniff, then nodded at Harry. "Keep goin'."

Harry told him about walking from the Burrow, when he'd thought he heard Nagini in the grass. "But now I expect it was just Ron and Hermione, and Luna and Neville, sneaking after me."

Hagrid frowned thoughtfully. "Don't count on it, Harry. I've been hearin' You-Know-'Oo's been workin' overtime lately. I wouldn't be surprised if that was 'is snake, sent to spy for 'im."

"Spying?" Harry said in surprise. "What..." He stopped.

Harry remembered talking to Hedwig about Ginny, when he'd been on the road. He had thought he was alone, that Voldemort hadn't known about the connection between Harry and Ginny. But if Nagini had been spying... Then Ginny's death hadn't been a random murder. It was all planned, an attack on Harry's heart.

A cold fury rose up in Harry. Everything else was blocked out, everything but the rage building inside him. But after a moment the rage died, to be replaced with fear. He realized just how much he had given away, on that lonely country road... how much he'd said, about Ginny, Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys... _He knows. After all this time... He finally knows._

Out of a deep well of despair, Harry dimly heard a voice calling him. "Harry! _Harry!_"

He shook his head, opening his eyes to see Hermione staring at him, a concerned look on her face. "Are you alright?"

"Um... Yeah, I-I'm fine," he lied. He tried to concentrate on what Hagrid was saying, but a single thought kept chasing through his head: _He knows... He knows everything, and Ginny's dead and it's all my fault..._

"...but I'm not sure how you're plannin' to do this, Hermione," Hagrid said. "Getting' into the grounds is one thing, but into the castle _itself_... I dunno, there's probably loads of protections on it, to keep anyone from sneakin' in..."

Ron butted in, "But you're the Keeper of the Keys, Hagrid! Surely with that title you'd have some keys... Maybe for a back way into Hogwarts?"

Hagrid looked very uncomfortable. "Well, yeah, bu'..."

Luna said, "Yes, there is a back way into the castle. I've seen other students use it a few times, but it's usually locked. I'm sure Hagrid has the key, don't you, Hagrid?"

Hagrid sighed heavily. "Yeah, I've got the keys," he admitted. "But tha' doesn't mean I'll give 'em to you. You can't jus' go sneakin' around Hogwarts. You and me could all get in serious trouble..."

"But Hagrid," Hermione said pleadingly, "you know us. You can trust us, we're not going to try anything except get into the Head's office. Besides, we'll only be in there a few moments, you won't even know we're there, and we'll be gone before you know it."

Ron nodded, grinning. "Yeah, Hagrid! Come on, we'll never tell!"

Harry quietly spoke. "Please, Hagrid. I really need to get in there."

Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna turned to stare at Hagrid, who seemed to be thinking about their proposal very hard. After a minute, he sighed again and walked over to his huge table, where he opened a hidden drawer. From it he pulled a large brass key, the handle of which was roughly shaped like an ornate "H".

Seeing the looks on the kids' faces, Hagrid held up the key and said, "Believe me, the key for the front doors is abou' twice as big an' fancy. This one is nothin' compared to the main key."

Neville's mouth was hanging open. He stammered, "Those keys must've cost a fortune!"

Ron lunged suddenly for the key, which Hagrid lifted easily above his head. "If you kids are goin' to get into Hogwarts, I'm goin' with you, at least to the entrance. Either I come, or you don't go at all. Alright?"

Harry looked around at the others, then said, "Fine. Let's go."

* * *

Hagrid, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville snuck over the back lawn to the castle. Hermione reached the back first, and Hagrid motioned for her to stand against the stone wall. Within a few minutes they were all lined up along the wall, but there was no sign of a door anywhere. 

Hagrid shiftily looked round the area, then pulled his big pink umbrella from a huge coat pocket. Harry had reason to believe that the umbrella hid the pieces of Hagrid's snapped wand, and he was almost sure of it as the half-giant stepped up to the wall and tapped three diagonal stones in an apparently random order. That part of the wall immediately faded away to reveal a small wooden door. In the very middle was a large brass keyhole.

Hagrid rummaged around in his pockets and triumphantly drew out the key. "'Ere we go," he muttered. He quickly unlocked and opened the door, then ushered the five friends inside.

He pulled Harry aside just before he went in. "I'll take care of Hedwig for you. Do wha' you 'ave to do, then get out this same way. I'll stay just here and keep watch. And Harry," he said seriously, looking down at the boy, "be careful, alright?"

Harry nodded, then entered the castle.

The passageway they were in was completely dark, and very narrow, almost like a tunnel. Several times Harry heard someone gasp as hey were trod upon by the person behind.

After walking through the seemingly endless dark for a few minutes, Harry heard Neville yelp. The next second he smashed into Ron, who was directly in front of him. "What's going on?" Harry panted, straightening his glasses.

"Dunno," said Ron. "Everybody suddenly stopped, and I ran into Luna. Hey Neville!" he shouted up front. "What happened? Why'd you stop?"

Neville's voice sounded muffled as he answered, "I ran into a wall. I think this passage is a dead end, Harry."

"Let me through," Harry told Ron, who squashed against the wall to make room for his friend to pass. "'Scuse me... Sorry..." Harry pushed his way up to Neville and asked, "It's a dead end? Are you sure?"

"See for yourself," Neville said. He stepped aside for Harry.

Harry put his hands out and took a step. His hands immediately met a cold, stone wall. He blindly felt around, beginning to panic. The stone surrounded his sides and front. He couldn't find any breaks in the wall. _But Hagrid wouldn't put us in here if it was a dead end!_ he reasoned. Than a small voice in the back of his head whispered, _Ah, but how do you know it was really Hagrid? It could have been anyone, just using Polyjuice Potion... A Ministry official, a Death Eater, even Voldemort himself! This could be a trap, and you walked straight into it..._

Harry gritted his teeth and kept feeling around. That had to have been Hagrid, he was too like himself to be an imposter — wasn't he? _Hagrid wouldn't let ayone trap him to make a Polyjuice, that had to be him..._ The doubt remained, however, so Harry shoved it to the very back of his mind and devoted himself to finding a way for them to get out.

"Um... Harry?" he heard Hermione say behind him.

"What?" he snapped. He was getting quite frustrated, his efforts bearing no results. A bright light suddenly appeared behind Harry and Neville, who turned in surprise. Hermione was holding up her wand. It lit up the entire passage with a glowing light. Hermione had a knowing expression on her face as she waved the wand around, causing the light to bounce back and forth. "Forget about _'Lumos'_, did you?"

Harry mentally kicked himself. How could he have forgotten about magic? They had Apparated, to get into a magic school, and he had completely forgotten his wand. Harry pulled his wand out of his robes and murmured, _"Lumos."_ The passageway was immediately flooded wih light. Behind him, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna did the same.

It was much easier to search for the exit with light, but Luna was still the first to discover the door. "I think I've found it," she said dreamily, raising her wand and pointing at the ceiling. They all looked up to see a big wooden trapdoor just over their heads.

"Now why didn't we notice that before?" Ron said indignantly.

"We just weren't looking in the right place," Hermione said, coming up behind Harry. "How d'you suppose we can get up there, Harry?"

"Er..." Harry said, mind whirling with ideas. "We could — stand on top of each other's shoulders, to get to it... Or we could take turns using my broom to fly through..."

"Yeah, Harry, but how do we get it open?" Ron asked. "That thing looks like it weighs a ton, and unless it opens from the inside, there's no way we can do anything!"

Neville had been quiet for a while, but when he spoke up, he said only, "There is a handle, isn't there?"

Everyone looked up again. Hermione said, "Yes..."

"So then it can't be locked, or else there'd be a big lock on the outside, which would be too easily noticed. This thing has supposedly been here for a long time, and I've never seen a trapdoor like this anywhere in the school."

"Yeah, so?" Ron said impatiently. "That really doesn't help us out here, Neville..."

"But it does!" Neville said, clearly getting excited. "If the people who built this passage didn't want it to be noticed, a large trapdoor being pushed up into a corridor whenever anyone used it would surely draw attention! Students would see if a big slab of the floor suddenly moved up..."

"...So the door probably comes down," Harry finished slowly. A plan was beginning to form in his mind, but Hermione said it aloud first. "Why don't you use your Firebolt to get up there, then you can unlatch the door for the rest of us, Harry?"

Harry grinned. "Just what I was thinking, Hermione." He knelt down and pulled his magically enlarged backpack off his shoulders, setting it carefully on the ground. He then plucked out his magnificent Firebolt racing broom and placed it next to the backpack.

He shrugged the bag back on and extended the broomstick toward Ron, who looked surprised. "You want to do it, Ron? You could probably use the practice."

Ron's face turned red, and for a moment he seemed torn between blowing up or taking the Firebolt, which he was staring at longingly. Finally, he sighed and said, "Hand it over."

Harry grinned and passed the broom over to Ron. Ron jumped on it and took off with a "Yahoo!" of excitement. Everybody ducked as he zoomed about above their heads. "This is great, Harry!" he shouted in ecstasy.

"Er, Ron?" Harry said. Ron screeched to a halt in midair. "Yeah?"

Harry pointed up. "The trapdoor, please?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

Ron looked slightly embarrassed as he flew up to the ceiling. Reaching the door, he twisted until he was hanging almost upside-down. Then he grabbed the knob and pulled as hard as he could. For a minute it wouldn't budge. Ron grunted, "I think it's st —"

Something clicked, and Ron almost fell backwards as the heavy trapdoor suddenly swung down. He was hit by an avalanche of ancient dust and spiraled to the ground, coughing and sneezing violently.

"Hahaha...!" Hermione laughed loudly at Ron. "What's so funny?" he choked. "You are, Ron," she answered, dusting off his robes. "My goodness, you are a mess!" She brushed a pile of dust off Ron's head, which made him sneeze even more, which made her laugh harder.

Harry stared at them for a moment, then shook his head and said, "Oy!"

Ron looked up at Harry, startled, and cleared his throat meaningfully. He stepped away from Hermione, who had just done the same. "Sorry, Harry, that was a bit... stupid," Ron said, ears reddening.

Harry chose to ignore their little episode, and the kids all gathered under the open trapdoor.

Harry looked up. "Well... Here we are. So who wants to go first?"

Silence. Then, a timid-sounding voice spoke up. "I will, Harry."

Harry turned to see Neville standing there, looking a bit surprised at his own daring. He came forward and said, "I'll go." He glanced round at the others. "But I'm going to need a boost up."

Ten minutes later, Neville was standing atop Harry's shoulders. Harry struggled to hold him up while Neville felt around the dark space above the trapdoor. "I think there's a rug or something on top. I'll try to move it..." Neville called down. There was a muffled thumping sound, then Neville suddenly fell backwards. Harry tried to catch him as he came down, but he missed and Neville smashed into the floor.

After a moment he sat up dazedly and said, "I- I'm okay." He was clutching a large green-and-silver striped throw rug in his arms, which he held up triumphantly. "I got it, though!"

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Luna peered up into the dark doorway. Harry took a deep breath and said, "Let's go, then."

He climbed up the human ladder the other four had made and was soon inside a big, dark room. He didn't look round until he'd gotten his friends in. When he did, he was shocked to see that the passageway had led them straight into...

"...the Slytherin common room!" Hermione breathed.

And so it was. Even though it was too dark to see much, Harry could just make out a circle of comfortable-looking black chairs crowded around a fireplace built into the far wall. The room almost looked exactly like the Gryffindor common room, but for one thing: On the wall, above the firplace, was a huge tapestry of a green coat-of-arms, with a large silver snake in the center.

Neville looked down at the rug he still had draped over his arm. "Well, now we know why the rug I found is these colors." He stared back at the now-closed trapdoor. "The rug must've been covering the passage for years!"

"I'm just surprised no one found it till now," Harry commented.

"Well not everybody's Fred and George," Ron muttered.

Harry cautiously looked round, then motioned for the others to follow him. "Let's go," he said. "I dunno if anyone's hung around here, but if they have, I for one don't want to be caught."

They quietly left the common room, coming out on a long, deserted hallway. "Right," Harry said. "Anyone know the way from Slytherin to the Head's office? I've only been round here once, four or five years ago, and I didn't go straight to the office from —"

"Oh no!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly. They all turned to her. "I just realized... If we're going to be sneaking through Hogwarts, there are the portraits and paintings everywhere! What if they spy on us, they won't all just ignore a bunch of students creeping about when school is closed! And what about the ghosts, and Peeves, I doubt they'll have left, too!"

Harry swore to himself. He had forgotten the permanent residents of Hogwarts. Just one more glitch in his originally perfect plan, something else to dodge.

"Well — Let's just go quietly, everyone, and maybe they'll all be asleep," he said doubtfully.

* * *

Twenty minutes or so later, Harry finally knew where they were in the school. To his relief, they'd ended up rather close to the office anyway. 

Hogwarts felt very strange without teachers and students milling around. Everything, every room was quiet and empty — _Like a graveyard,_ Harry thought. The comparison sent a chill up his spine. He'd never been inside the school while it was closed, and he never wanted to do so again.

"We go up that staircase," Harry whispered, "then turn to the right, and down that corridor is Dumbledore's office."

So far, none of the portraits had awakened, but at one point Harry could have sworn he saw the portrait of a fat, bald wizard staring at him through cracked eyelids. Harry had swung around, and the wizard had immediately clamped his eyes shut and let out a loud, unconvincing snore. Apart from that one incident, however, the pictures hadn't shown any signs of consciousness.

They hadn't met any of the ghosts either, but Harry had a feeling that they would soon. Sure enough, halfway to the staircase, Harry heard something and pulled the other four into a small space in the wall just as the ghost of the Bloody Baron glided by. Luckily, he didn't seem at all aware of their presence, and after a moment floated down another corridor, out of sight of the five friends.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He slowly released the others and peered out of the convenient space. Not seeing the Baron, he pushed the four back out and leaned against the wall.

"Blimey, Harry!" Ron whispered, massaging his neck where Harry had pulled him by the collar. "I know you don't want us to be seen, but this is a bit much! It was just the Bloody Baron..."

Luna murmured, "If the ghost had seen us, he would most likely have reported us. He doesn't care for anyone, if we were Slytherins he still might have told about us."

"Exactly," Harry said. "I don't want to risk anything we don't have to." He looked round again, then said, "Let's get out of here — Quick, before anyone else comes along."

They quietly crept up the staircase, then walked silently to an pen doorway, which housed a spiraling marble staircase. Harry beckoned for his friends to go up first. After they'd all disappeared at the top, Harry glanced back, to make sure they weren't being watched, and ran up the steps, taking them two at a time.

He got to the top to find the others clustered together, waiting for him at a large, ornate wooden door. Harry looked up. The ugly gargoyle that usually guarded Dumbledore's office was missing.

He looked at the other four. "Go on, Harry," Ron mouthed.

"Don't you want to come, too?" he whispered, puzzled.

Hermione shook her head. "We've all agreed... We think this is something you ought to do on your own, Harry."

"Besides," Ron said, "I've been in there only once or twice before, when we got in trouble and stuff. I'd feel weird, just standing around while you talk with the Headmaster's portrait."

"Right." Harry swallowed. "Okay, so... I guess I'll be seeing you in a bit. If I'm not out in an hour —"

"Go on," Hermione said. "Just go, we'll be right here when you get back. And Harry — Be careful."

"Alright, so... see you," Harry said awkwardly. Taking one look back, he reached for the door. To his surprise, it was unlocked, and he easily pushed it open. He glanced over his shoulder again, then stepped through the door into Dumbledore's former office.

The door clicked shut behind him as he stood, just inside. The large, circular room looked exactly as it had when Dumbledore was still alive, except that the perch by the desk, which usually held Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, was empty.

Stepping a little to the side, Harry noticed that the Sorting Hat was also missing. He frowned and walked over to the shelf where it was always kept, but it had disappeared without leaving a sign that it had ever been there.

Harry was about to turn and walk back to the wall of portraits of the past Heads of the school when a quiet voice spoke behind him. Harry froze as the voice said, "Hello, Harry... I wondered if you'd be coming here again."

Harry's voice felt dry. He swallowed and asked, "Who —?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?" the voice invited.

Harry slowly turned and sharply took in a breath. At the desk was one of the last people he'd expected to see there... Sitting calmly, hands folded neatly on the desk in front of him...

"_Professor?_" Harry gasped.


	9. A Little Family History

Chapter 9 — A Little Family History

"Well, don't look so surprised, Harry," the person who looked like Dumbledore said. "You wanted to talk with me, so here I am."

Harry opened and closed his mouth wordlessly, then stammered, "But... You fell! I saw — I saw you die! How is it — How are you — Who are you?"

The person who looked like Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow. "I am Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and you are Harry James Potter, a former student in this school. I trust I am correct in assuming you won't be coming back?"

"But — But how?" Harry said in confusion. Was this a fake, a trap? How could Dumbledore possibly be sitting here, supposedly alive and well, when Harry himself had seen him fall off the Astronomy Tower, dead, almost a year ago?

Dumbledore pointed at the wall. His portrait was still there, sleeping peacefully. "I am not real, Harry," he said sadly. "I am a projection, a mere image being cast out by the portrait. Even as a picture, I do have some small talents. I am simply a thought, an idea. Here," he said, extending a hand. "Try to touch me."

Harry looked at the hand, which was no longer blackened and withered, as it had been last year. Dumbledore gave him a reassuring nod. Harry took a deep breath and reached out to grasp his hand. To his complete surprise, his hand went right through Dumbledore's. It was rather like touching a ghost, except there wasn't anything there at all. It felt like Harry was simply putting his hand in the air. Harry quickly pulled his hand back and stared at the projection of his Headmaster, who sighed. "No, I am not a ghost, Harry," he said gently. "I was not afraid of death, you knew that."

"But then why —" Harry began, but Dumbledore put up his hand for silence. "I know what you are about to ask, but I am not the right person to answer those questions. You will know in time. Just believe this: Professor Snape is not a Death Eater, nor will he ever be so again. He is still with the Order, or what is left of it, and on this I completely trust Severus Snape."

Harry frowned in frustration. He wanted to scream, "But Snape killed you! He murdered you in cold blood, and then he ran away with Draco Malfoy! How can you possibly still trust him, even when you're dead because of him?" but Dumbledore's tone left no room for argument.

"I do not have much time, Harry," Dumbledore said, glancing up at his portrait. "So let us get straight to the heart of the matter. You wish to ask me a question?"

"Yeah!" Harry said. "Er — May I sit down, Professor?"

"Of course, Harry," Dumbledore said graciously.

Harry sat in the chair across from the desk and gripped the arms of the chair. He opened his mouth, and for the second time that night the whole story rushed out: the long summer; walking to the Burrow; his fears of being followed by Nagini; Ginny's death — Harry felt his throat constrict again, and Dumbledore's eyes grew suspiciously moist. He leaned across the desk and dropped his immaterial hand to just above Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry," he said softly. "I know how close you were to her..."

Harry's eyes burned, and he drew away from Dumbledore. "Yeah, well... I — I'm pretty much over it by now," he lied.

Dumbledore regarded him over his half-moon glasses. Harry once again felt the curious sensation of being X-rayed, his teacher's gaze was so penetrating. He cleared his throat and looked down, sure that Dumbledore saw how he truly felt about Ginny's death.

"Please continue, Harry," Dumbledore said, refolding his hands. Harry cleared his throat again, then told the Headmaster about Ginny's funeral; leaving the Burrow without Ron and Hermione, only to have them catch up at Godric's Hollow along with Neville and Luna; then finally, after telling about their infiltration of Hogwarts, Harry said, "And Professor..."

"Yes, Harry."

"When I was in Godric's Hollow... there was this old woman. She — she seemed sort of strange, and... She knew my name."

Dumbledore frowned and leaned forward. Harry continued, "She knew loads about me... and... She even knew about the Horcruxes, sir, and how man were left and everything! Then she went all rigid and, well... she said..."

Harry told Dumbledore about the old woman's cryptic message, trying to get it word for word. When he was finished, Dumbledore sat back in his chair and stared off thoughtfully. "Hmmm... Very curious..." he murmured.

Harry blinked, then remembered his question. "Sir..." he said tentatively. "My mother... Lily Evans... How much d'you know about her, about her family?"

Dumbledore looked surprised as he answered, "Well... quite a bit, Harry. Every piece of information I could find. What would you like to know?"

"Everything you can tell me."

Dumbledore sighed, then said, "Please get comfortable, Harry. It is a very long and colorful history, and we may be here a while. I hope Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, Mr. Longbottom, and Ms. Lovegood do not get too impatient.

"We shall begin with your grandparents and their story. They were called Thomas and Rose Evans."

"Excuse me, sir... They were muggles, weren't they?"

"No, Harry. More accurately, they were Squibs."

"Squibs?" Harry said, puzzled. "Then why did Snape, and Voldemort and everybody call my mother a Mudblood?"

"Well, Harry, in our biased world today, to people like Voldemort a Squib is no better than a muggle. Thomas Evans, your grandfather, was the first Squib in a very long line of pureblood wizards. For this reason, his family shunned him and he was thrown out to die."

"That — That's so horrible!" Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "And believe me, Harry, some pureblood families still do that today. The minority, of course, but it is not unheard of. Anyway, Thomas wandered for several days, alone and hungry, until he was taken in by another family of wizards, who had a young daughter. She was also a Squib. Her name was Rose Mercier. Thomas lived with the Merciers until he was almost grown, and of course by that time he and Rose had fallen in love with each other. They were married a few years prior to Lord Voldemort's rise to power.

"To Rose and Thomas's surprise, their first daughter (your mother, Lily) was a witch. They had another daughter, about two years later, whom they named Petunia. She, unfortunately, possessed no magical abilities and so was dubbed a muggle.

"As Lily's powers slowly began to develop, Petunia grew extremely bitter. When Lily received the letter from Hogwarts, at age eleven, her parents were ecstatic. Petunia, on the other hand, began to see her sister as a freak. She despised her sister all the more for her differences from the rest of the family, and for the attention Lily took away from her. And so the sisters drifted further and further apart.

"Then, at Hogwarts, Lily met a handsome boy named James Potter. At first she loathed him, because James seemed so conceited, but in spite of herself she fell madly in love with him.

"Two years after leaving Hogwarts, they married and soon had you, Harry, and then I suppose you know the rest."

Harry nodded. One year later, the Potters had been mercilessly killed by the greatest Dark wizard of their time, Lord Voldemort. Harry sat back and pondered all he had been told. _'The secret lies with the blood of the Evanses.'_ Did the story begin further back, before Rose Mercier and Thomas Evans even met? But how to phrase the question? "How long exactly were my grandparents' bloodlines? Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "I was hoping you'd ask that, Harry. Rose's family didn't go back very far for pure-bloods, only five or six generations. But Thomas, now... Thomas's family, the Evanses, traced all the way back to Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the founders of this school."

"Rowena _Ravenclaw?_" Harry gasped. "But then — But that means... I'm descended from Rowena Ravenclaw? That's just — It's not possible!"

"Yes, it is highly improbable, but true," Dumbledore said calmly. "I did not believe it myself at first. I looked through the family's history, however, and found Rowena at the very beginning."

Harry sat there, stunned beyond words. Everything was coming together. The old woman's message. Harry's inexplicable longing to see Godric's Hollow. His family's history. It was all connected, a huge puzzle that was slowly assembling itself. If he was really descended from Rowena Ravenclaw herself...

"Professor," Harry breathed, his mind working furiously. "Might they — the Merciers, I mean — have had an object that'd been passed down to Lily, that Voldemort turned into a Horcrux? You said he would most likely want to use objects from the four founders... Couldn't he have found something that had belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, and made it into a Horcrux when — or before — he killed my mum and dad?"

"It's possible, Harry, and the same thought occurred to me, a few years ago. But I searched the ruins of the Potters' home, and found nothing that may have belonged to Rowena."

Harry thought hard. _'The secret lies with the blood of the Evanses... One close to your life but not your heart unknowingly holds the first piece of the Dark Lord's soul...'_ Another possibility suddenly came to him.

"No..." Harry whispered. "No way, that couldn't be..."

"Harry?" Dumbledore said, a puzzled expression on his face. The projection suddenly flickered in and out of sight. "What's going on?" Harry asked.

"I'm waking up," Dumbledore said. Harry looked up at the portrait on the wall and saw that it was indeed beginning to stir. "What was that you said, just a minute ago?" the Headmaster asked urgently. "Quickly, Harry."

Harry said, "I was just thinking... What if my aunt somehow got ahold of the object? Then it would still 'lie with the blood of the Evanses', and it'd explain why you couldn't find it in Godric's Hollow! And that would mean... All these years I've lived at Privet Drive, I've been right with a Horcrux, all this time!"

The Dumbledore in the chair was fading quickly. He nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, Harry, I think... That could be it... If Petunia has it, that would certainly raise —" There was a sudden staticky sound, then the Headmaster faded completely, leaving an empty chair and no evidence of his ever being there. Harry murmured, "Thank you, Professor!" He saw the portrait shake himself awake and stare directly at Harry. "So... Did you get it?" he said.

Harry nodded. _Does it even remember our conversation?_

The portrait Dumbledore nodded back and said, "Glad to be of help. I hope you two worked something out, Harry. Good luck!"

"Goodbye," Harry said quietly. Looking round the office one last time, he backed out, closed the door, and turned to his waiting friends.

"Well?" Hermione asked anxiously. "Was the portrait there? Did you work out any clues? Where do we go now?"

"Yeah. C'mon, Harry, spill it," Ron said, grinning.

Harry put a finger to his lips and went down the marble stairs, his friends close behind, peppering him with questions. Finally, Harry turned around and said, "Listen, I'm not saying anything till we get outside. There's too many people, ghosts, whatever, in here to talk about all that stuff. Let's just get out, and then I'll tell you. But please, _please_ be quiet until then. Okay?"

Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Luna grumblingly agreed. They all followed Harry down several sets of stairs and through a few corridors. Then, just as they were nearing the Slytherin common room, they heard a loud CRACK! and Peeves the poltergeist appeared above them.

"Ooh, naughty ickle students shouldn't be here! School's closed, lake's hosed!" he sang in his annoyingly nasal voice. Then he spotted Harry. His small, dark eyes narrowed. "Ooh, it's Potty and his ickle friends!" he said with a fiendish grin. "How sweet! Oh, and _Loony!_" he exclaimed with delight, recognizing Luna, who was standing at the back. "Potty and Loony, Loony Loony Lovegood! Students ought not to be wandering about when the school's closed. Should tell you on the ghosties, I should! Or maybe," he said, smiling wickedly, "maybe on Filchie!"

Seeing the looks of horror on the five friends' faces, Peeves cackled loudly. "Ooh, yes, Filchie's still here too! Making sure nobody tries sneaking into the school! Not going to be pleased with you, now is he? _OY, FILCHIE!_" he suddenly screeched. Harry cringed. "Please, Peeves, no..." he whispered. This scene was all too familiar, but he couldn't move a muscle. Just when they were about to get away safe...

"_STUDENTS IN THE SECOND-FLOOR CORRIDOR!_" Peeves shrieked. "_ICKLE POTTY AND HIS LOONY FRIENDS ON THE SECOND FLOOR CORRIDOR! COME AND GET 'EM, FILCHIE!_" Then, with another wicked grin, he disappeared with another loud crack.

But the damage was already done. Harry heard Argus Filch's shuffling footsteps not a minute later, and was suddenly spurred into action. "Come on! Hurry, we have to get to the common room, Filch is coming! Everybody, _move!_"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna dashed around the corner into the Slytherin common room. Filch sounded closer than ever, and he shouted, "I know you're here! Come out and show yourself, it'll be worse for you if you don't!"

Ron reached the trap door first and yanked it open. Neville jumped inside, forgetting the drop to the floor, and smashed down. "Neville!" Hermione cried. "You could have waited a moment, then we'd —"

"There isn't time to wait!" Harry shouted urgently, regardless of who might be around to hear. "Get in, everyone, quick!"

Ron and Luna dropped into the passage, almost at the exact same time. Hermione hesitated at the edge. Harry looked back and saw Filch enter the common room, with Mrs. Norris trailing close behind. "Go on, Hermione! You can do it! Jump!"

Ron's muffled voice came from below. "Come on, don't worry, Hermione. I'll catch you!"

Hermione closed her eyes and gasped as she fell into the space beneath the trap door. There was a groan, and Harry heard Ron say snidely, "Whoa, you're heavy, Hermione." Then there came a slapping sound, and Harry assumed Hermione had gotten down unharmed.

Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Filch and his cat standing just inside the door, staring at Harry. "You!" Filch wheezed. He began to hurry as fast as he could to get to Harry, arms outstretched.

_Now or never,_ Harry thought. He lunged through the hole in the floor, slamming the trap door shut as he fell past it. He landed on all fours and was up in an instant, running to catch the others. He vaguely heard Filch panting and cursing as he struggled to open the door, but after a moment Harry was too far down the passage to hear anything from the common room.

He finally caught up to his friends near the end of the passageway, nearly running them over with the speed of his dash. They all stopped to rest. Neville slumped against the wall, panting. Luna, Ron, and Hermione were breathing heavily, but other than that they seemed to be fine.

"Everybody okay?" Harry asked, wiping a layer of cold sweat from his forehead. They all nodded breathlessly, and after a few minutes continued through the tunnel.

They finally saw a weak light at the end, and staggered gratefully towards it. Harry stopped and, bracing himself against the wall, said quickly to the others, "Let's get out of here, I have loads to tell you..."

They left the secret passage and walked straight into Hagrid, who anxiously peered down at them. "Well? Did you get any advice or help from the portrait? An' why were you runnin' so fast to get outta there?"

"Filch," Harry explained. He briefly told Hagrid about finding Dumbledore and running into Peeves, but something kept him from telling about his conversation with Dumbledore. Finally, Hagrid sighed and said, "Well, I guess you'll be goin', then. How about some tea before you go?"

Hermione, Ron, and Hermione politely refused, speaking for the whole group. They'd had too much experience with Hagrid's cooking to stick around for tea. "Thanks anyway, Hagrid," Harry said. "And thanks for helping us get in, we could never have done it without you."

* * *

A half-hour later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville were standing outside the Hogwarts gates. They had said goodbye to Hagrid, and he'd then let them out through the gate. (True to his word, the key had been about three times as elaborately made as the back key.) Hagrid had offered to take care of Hedwig, and Harry had reluctantly accepted. Much as he hated to leave Hedwig behind, it would be hard enough without having to keep track of an owl on top of everything else.

They stood there for a minute, staring at each other, hardly daring to believe they'd made it inside and back again. Then Harry took a deep breath. "Well... We did it."

Ron gave a shaky little laugh. "Yeah, guess we did. _Now_ can you tell us what went on in there? We know something happened. You wouldn't have been in the office for an hour just chatting."

Harry told them about the fright he'd had when he saw Dumbledore's projection, and what he had said. "...So I'm thinking maybe the Horcrux is with my aunt, that make any sense?" he finished.

They all had disbelieving looks on their faces. After some time, Hermione sputtered, "But — You — Rowena _Ravenclaw?_ The Rowena Ravenclaw? It's not — That's just — Well..."

"That's just bizarre," Ron cut in. "I think it's brilliant, though, the way Dumbledore could figure that out, on such little information... I always said he was a genius. A bit off it, 'course, but absolutely brilliant."

"That's really cool, Harry!" Neville said, his face glowing with a sort of feverish awe. "Wow... I've never met anybody related to one of the founders. Wonder what Gran'd say about this..."

Hermione was still struggling to speak. "But — but — but... That can't be!" she blurted. "Nobody — you... Snape called your mother a Mudblood! If Dumbledore was right, she was anything but! How could —"

"I'm not quite sure about it myself, Hermione," Harry said thoughtfully, "but Dumbledore put it this way: He said, er... 'To people like Voldemort, a Squib is no better than a muggle.' I guess Voldemort and Snape count on blood so much, they didn't really care about two generations ago, they just looked at her parents, saw they weren't wizards, and branded them muggles." Ron gritted his teeth upon hearing Voldemort's name. Everyone else ignored him. Luna hadn't even flinched.

"Well, yes, I suppose," Hermione said. "But even so..."

"Look, I don't want to have to go through it all again," Harry said wearily. "I trust Dumbledore one hundred percent, and I don't think he'd tell me stuff like that unless he knew it to be true."

He didn't tell them about what the projection had said, that he still trusted Severus Snape, that he was still with the fragmented Order of the Phoenix. He couldn't believe it himself, but he didn't want to stand here arguing about it. _How could Snape still be on our side? It doesn't make sense..._

His friends had gathered into a tight cluster, and he heard them whispering urgently. _Probably trying to puzzle out the Horcrux's location for themselves,_ he thought wryly.

Ron came back over to him. "We all think you're right about the Horcrux, Harry, but then if your aunt had it how would You-Know-Who have gotten his hands on it?"

Harry shrugged, anxiety rising. They had to get out of the vicinity of Hogwarts as soon as possible. If Voldemort had placed his Death Eaters around here, too, he didn't want there to be more casualties because of him. "I dunno, maybe he had it before Petunia got it, then he passed it on to her. As a sort of natural safekeeping. No one would ever think to look at the Dursleys' house, they're far too intolerant of magic. So what d'you say? Should we head over to Privet Drive, see what we can find?"

In the end they all agreed, and for the third time in a day Harry prepared himself to Apparate. _This is getting to be my major way of getting around,_ he thought, stepping forward again.

"Let's go," he said quietly. Could this really be it, could they be so close to already finding the first piece of Voldemort's soul? It felt too simple, and yet... It all made sense. But what if they had set out a trail of false clues, knowing Harry and his friends would follow? What if... But that was a risk they'd have to take. If they didn't go, and it turned out the Horcrux really was at the Dursleys', Harry would never forgive himself. _This has to be it... Dumbledore wouldn't lead me wrong..._

But what if it wasn't Dumbledore? What if he was really...

Harry blocked out the argument in his head. He had to have a clear mind if he didn't want to arrive in his aunt and uncle's yard missing an arm or a leg. He walked forward, then slowly spun in a circle, all the while thinking: _ Privet Drive, Privet Drive, Privet Drive..._ The one place he had never wanted to see again and he was heading straight for it. _I must be mad..._

...And suddenly he wasn't there.


	10. Unwelcome Visitors

Chapter 10 — Unwelcome Visitors

It was a beautiful day on Privet Drive. The summer birds were singing merrily, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, neighbors were happily lying in the shade with the paper and a glass of lemonade, the temperature was a comfortable eighty-two degrees, and best of all, there was no Harry Potter.

Life was good for Petunia Dursley. With her troublesome nephew gone for good, the end of summer was filled with relaxing, magic-free days. Ever since that _teacher_, Dumbledore, had told them that Harry would be leaving their home as soon as he was seventeen, Petunia had been inwardly squirming with anticipation. Nothing but trouble had come to Privet Drive for the sixteen long years Harry had lived at Number Four. Not having to keep track of him any longer felt very... nice. Yes. Very nice, indeed.

Petunia stood in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the night's dinner, a magnificent roast pork, and fruit salad for dessert, for Dudley. Despite his rigorous diet, he wasn't losing any weight, and Petunia had a suspicion that whatever the Polkisses were feeding him at tea every day had something to do with it.

She slid the pork into the oven, adjusted the heat, then surveyed the room with her sharp eyes. Her husband Vernon was out mowing the lawn but, peering out the window, Petunia suspected he wasn't getting much work done. He was talking with one of their neighbors at the same time, leaning heavily on the mower. Harry's absence had been good for him, too. He had grown much more relaxed, and he didn't get into a full-blown rage as often. The neighbors had noticed a distinct change inVernon, and a few had even asked Petunia about it.

Petunia smiled and stopped in the middle of her kitchen, getting a bottle of water and a dustrag from a cabinet. Then, just as she was re-sterilizing the kitchen counters, dreaming happily about what a great life she'd had ever since Harry Potter walked out her door... five dirty teenagers suddenly materialized on her polished floor with a loud cracking sound.

Petunia dropped the rag and spray-bottle and screamed. She didn't care that the window was open, that she sounded like she was dying. Perhaps that would get Vernon in here. Even when she finally recognized the boy in front, she wouldn't stop screaming. For the boy was the one she had wiped her hands clean of, the one she had hoped never to see again.

Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry didn't know quite what to do when he and his friends Apparated into the kitchen of Number Four Privet Drive and his aunt had immediately begun to scream. Her eyes traveled to his face, and she appeared to recognize him, but then she screamed all the louder.

"Aunt Petunia!" Harry exclaimed, but he couldn't make himself heard over her shrieks. "Aunt Petunia!" he said a bit louder. No luck. He'd just given up, and decided to let her wear herself out, when suddenly Ron plugged his ears and roared, "What the bloody hell is the _matter?_"

Aunt Petunia stopped screaming and goggled at him. Ron winced and, forcefully shaking his head, looked sheepishly at Harry. "Sorry," he said.

Harry frowned at him. After a moment of staring silently at the five friends, Aunt Petunia found her voice and shrieked, "What are _you_ doing here? You — you —" She pointed a shaking finger at Harry, mouth hanging open.

"Er, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, "this is Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood... They're some friends from school and we're just dropping in, I swear we'll be gone really soon."

A tortured squeak squeezed through Aunt Petunia's lips. Her eyes kept flicking between Harry and his friends, as though she couldn't believe that five young wizards had suddenly and quite unexpectedly dropped into her kitchen. Ron was already looking around in interest, inspecting a nearby coffee grinder. Harry grinned as he realized that this was Ron's first time in a muggle kitchen. Luna was glancing about with a vague interest, and so was Neville, but Hermione looked completely at home. _Of course she would, she's grown up in a house like this all her life,_ Harry thought.

Aunt Petunia seemed to get over her initial shock and was staring at Harry. There was a mixture of fear, anger, and surprise on her face. "You! How did you — Why are you back here again?" she sputtered. She looked as if she was going to scream for Uncle Vernon at any moment. Harry quickly said, "Please don't call Uncle Vernon, I really don't want to get him mixed up in all this."

"All... All what?" Aunt Petunia said faintly. She had collapsed in a chair and turned very pale. Apparently Harry had been the last person she was expecting to see.

Harry sighed. Before he searched the house for the Ravenclaw Horcrux, he would obviously have to tell her everything — or at least most of it. If she knew too much, Voldemort might go after her next. Even though he had no real love for the house or its inhabitants, he couldn't bear to be the cause of more death. _No,_ Harry thought, _The less they know of this, the better._

Harry started looking round, making sure nobody else was listening. "Erm... Everything been alright around here?" he asked awkwardly.

Aunt Petunia shook her head in disbelief. "Everything's... Everything's been fine. Nothing has happened really, since you left. We did get some new neighbors, but that's all."

"New neighbors? Are they nice?" Harry murmured carelessly. But the answer quickly caught his attention.

"Well, we haven't really met them, but some of the other neighbors have. They say they're not very hospitable, mostly ignoring everyone. They've been spying a lot, too. Mrs. Andrews said she found one, a man, crouching just outside her window, wearing heavy black robes. Very suspicious. Vernon said he wouldn't be surprised if they were thieves."

"Spying?" Harry asked. He felt cold all over. _Ignoring everyone... spying... black robes... Is Voldemort watching this place already? So much for secrecy..._

"What exactly is going on, Harry?" Aunt Petunia said, suddenly suspicious. "Why did you come here of all places? And do you know who those neighbors are? When I told you about them, you froze."

Harry bit his lip. What to say? The less he told her, the less she'd be able to tell Voldemort if he got to her... But she wouldn't be satisfied with a too-watered-down version...

He glanced back at Hermione. She would know how much was too much. Seeing him look at her, however, Hermione frowned and shook her head. Harry sighed. He'd obviously have to do this himself.

"You see..." Harry said evasively. "I'm after something Voldemort had, something very important to him, and I have reason to think that it's here. Something that could change everything. And, er... He might be keeping an eye on it, making sure no one finds it too..."

Aunt Petunia went even paler. "You mean... Our new neighbors... are _his?_ B-but... What could he want that is so important, so valuable? How do you know that it — whatever it is — is _here?_"

"I don't," Harry said wearily. "I'm just saying there's a good chance it is here, and if it is, he's not going to give it up without a fight. If your new neighbors are his followers... Things could get pretty messy, that's all. Is there any chance you can keep Uncle Vernon and Dudley out of the house until we leave? I don't want them thrown into the mix as well."

Aunt Petunia nodded, eyes wide. "I — I'll try. What are you...?"

"Right," Harry said, cutting off his aunt. He looked back at his friends. "Let's get to work, shall we? And I don't really want to have to go through the whole house, so Ron, Hermione, Neville — not you, Luna, I don't want you getting in trouble — Summoning Charm on the count of three?"

Ron nodded, raising his wand. Hermione and Neville soon followed suit. "One... Two... Three!"

At the same time, the four of them all shouted, "_Accio Horcrux!_"

Nothing happened. _Crap,_ Harry thought, _It must have a charm on it. Guess we'll have to do it the hard way, then._

Ron voiced his disappointment. "Ugh. Rotten luck. Must have a spell on it or something. You want us to split up, Harry?"

Harry frowned. "Yeah, I guess so. Not much else we can do, is there?" He didn't say what they must all have been thinking, that maybe the Horcrux wasn't there at all. _Optimism is the key to success... as long as it works._

Aunt Petunia buried her face in her hands as Harry and his friends started going through her tidy home, giving it the ramshackle look of a tornado site. Harry felt a little sorry for her, but not enough to stop looking. _She'll thank me one day, for this, if this turns out to be it._

Harry headed upstairs while Ron went through the kitchen, Hermione through the living room, and Neville and Luna in the rest. He briefly checked Dudley's two rooms and wasn't at all surprised to see that the Dursleys had already converted the one that had belonged to him into a storage room. They had left no signs that a teenage boy had once spent whole summers locked away in there.

Apart from quick glances, Harry didn't even bother to search those rooms. He doubted that Dudley would have something special enough to be used as a Horcrux, and if he did, he had either squashed or smashed it by now.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's bedroom, though... That provided some interesting possibilities. The room was very neat, but there were many places that could easily have hidden a small object, like Voldemort's other Horcruxes. Halfway through a cabinet Harry heard Aunt Petunia rush in and say, "No! No, what are you doing, you little —" She remembered Harry's wand, however, and stopped before she could give him a reason to do anything with it. She sat primly on the edge of the bed, wearing a frown that betrayed how upset she was by her nephew's rummaging.

"Don't worry, I won't steal anything," Harry muttered. Like there was anything he even wanted to steal in here. It was Horcrux or nothing.

After a half-hour of this, Harry was getting discouraged. Trying to take his mind off his lack of success, he asked, "How'd you stop Uncle Vernon from getting in?"

"I told him I was getting a surprise ready for him," Aunt Petunia murmured. She frowned again. "It certainly will be a surprise if you're not gone within the hour. Vernon isn't a patient man."

"Sorry."

Ten minutes later, Harry had looked everywhere except for one small drawer in Aunt Petunia's chest-of-drawers. Opening it carefully, his heart sank. There seemed to be nothing inside it apart from some moth-eaten sweaters, but he routinely dug through them anyway. He had just shut the drawer again... when he heard a loud clunking sound.

Harry turned back. There hadn't been anything hard inside that drawer — was there? He hadn't felt anything...

He pulled it out and sifted through the cloth. And there, hidden at the back of the drawer, was a small, ornamental jewelry box. Harry drew it out and stared at it.

It was very small, easy to overlook, yet there was something distinctly special about the box. Ornate wooden vines crept around the sides, and it was dyed a brilliant mahogany color. Beautifully detailed roses clung to different points of the vines. But it was the engraving on the top that made Harry catch his breath. A large, dark bird was clearly carved, wings outspread in flight. But it wasn't just any bird.

More importantly, it was a raven.

"Where did you get this?" Harry whispered, not trusting himself to speak aloud. The raven engraving burned into his memory. _Rowena Ravenclaw... The sign of a raven in flight..._

"That's strange," Aunt Petunia said slowly, gazing intently over Harry's shoulder at the jewelry box. "I haven't seen that old box in years. Beautiful, isn't it? I'm not even quite sure where it came from. It arrived here, wrapped in a rag, just a year or so after you were left here. Very coincidental..."

"You don't even know where it came from?" Harry asked incredulously. He knew exactly where it had come from — Either another Death Eater had been entrusted with a precious piece of Voldemort's soul, then panicked like Lucius Malfoy had, or Voldemort himself had wanted the Horcrux planted right under Harry's unsuspecting nose.

Harry sat there on the floor in disbelief, just staring at the box. _All these years... I've been living right next to a piece of the person who murdered my parents. And I had no idea... Not a clue... But here it is... How can it be so simple?_

This last thought brought Harry down to earth. Voldemort was sure to have left some guards for his precious soul. If the "neighbors" who were behaving so strangely were really Death Eaters... They would have heard Aunt Petunia's shrieks when Harry and his friends had Apparated into her house. _They know..._

"It's not safe here anymore," Harry said, quickly standing and slipping the jewelry box into his robes pocket. Aunt Petunia looked startled. "Wha —?"

"No time to explain," Harry said, ushering his aunt out of the room. "We've got to get out of here. They might already be downsta —"

As if on cue, a resounding _CRACK_ echoed throughout the house. A jet of bright green light shot just over Harry's head, and he ducked quickly, bringing Aunt Petunia down with him. Someone downstairs screamed, and Harry heard Ron bellow, "_Stupefy!_"

There was a smashing noise, and Harry assumed that whoever Ron had tried to curse had dodged it. A high-pitched cackle of glee reached his ears, and he recognized it immediately. A shiver of both fear and hatred went through his spine.

Bellatrix Lestrange was in Number Four Privet Drive. The woman who had killed Sirius, then attempted to kill Harry, was standing downstairs. How many had she brought with her?

Harry stood up as if in a trance. Aunt Petunia, who was still crouched on the floor, hissed at him, "Get down, Harry!" He didn't even hear her. All he heard was the cold, merciless laugh of the woman he had sworn to kill... And all he saw was Sirius's face as he fell to his death, again and again...

Harry gripped his wand tightly and lunged down the steps to face Sirius's murderer.


	11. Sirius Avenged

Chapter 11 — Sirius Avenged

Harry stood at the bottom of the staircase, having just jumped most of the way down. His palm was slick with sweat as he grasped his wand more tightly. Creeping through the front hall, he noted a shattered vase under an overturned lampstand. _That must have been what I heard smash._

Harry heard another shout coming from the direction of the kitchen. He raised his wand and cautiously peered around the door. He saw Hermione and Neville pointing their wands at two masked and robed men. The two friends had tied up the Death Eaters and pushed them into chairs at the table. Neville had something wrong with his left hand, and held it limply at his side. Hermione had a cut on her cheek, but otherwise seemed to be fine. Seeing Harry, her eyes widened in surprise and she mouthed, "Are you okay?"

Harry nodded, then whispered, "What happened?"

Neville said quietly, "We were looking for the Horcrux in here, like you said, and all of a sudden these two" — he prodded one of the Death Eaters with his wand, and got a hateful glare in return — "these two Apparated in here, along with..." Neville stopped.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry whispered, his heart filling with dread.

Hermione nodded her bushy head. "Yes. We Stupefied these two, then tied them up, but Bellatrix was fighting with Ron." Her eyes grew even wider with tears. "I don't know what's happened to him, Harry," she whispered. "A minute ago, they got all quiet, and I'm afraid... I'm afraid something awful's happened, but I can't leave... I'm frightened, Harry."

Harry realized then just how much Hermione really cared for Ron. He felt a dull ache in his chest as he thought of Ginny. "I'll go look for him, Hermione," he murmured. "Where's Luna?"

"I'm not sure. She went upstairs after you, she might still be up there."

"I should never have brought you into this," Harry muttered. "I should've sent you all back when you caught me up at Godric's Hollow." He cut off Hermione's protests with a hand. "I'll get Ron."

Harry silently went through the house. Then, after ten minutes, he found them in the living room.

Ron was stretched out on the floor, blood dripping from a wound in his side. Bellatrix Lestrange was standing over him, gloating as she prepared to finish him off with the Killing Curse.

"Where is he?" she snarled, kicking Ron hard in the ribs. Harry watched in horror as his friend groaned, trying to get up, then collapsing once more. Bellatrix cackled mirthlessly. "Not such a big man now, are you? Just like your spineless, blood-traitor father! I'll give you one last chance, boy! _Where is Harry Potter?_"

Ron didn't answer, either because he wouldn't, or couldn't, tell her. Bellatrix kicked at him again, then stepped back. "Fine," she spat. "Be like that. You're no use to me." She lifted her wand and opened her mouth. _"Avada Ked_ —"

A horrified thought flitted through Harry's mind, as he watched everything happen as if in slow motion. _No... I can't let Ron do this... for me..._

Harry rushed in and kicked out his foot, sweeping Bellatrix's feet out from under her and making her fall heavily to the floor. Her finished curse missed Ron and shot up at the ceiling. The deadly beam of light bounced down and around the room, narrowly missing Harry, until it smashed into an armchair, which exploded into a thousand small pieces.

Bellatrix spun on the floor and was back on her feet in an instant, wand in hand. She stared at Harry. "You!" she snarled. She circled him for a bit, trying to get a clear shot at him, keeping up an endless monologue as she went. "We have orders, Potter! We have orders from the Dark Lord himself to capture you alive. You've been a very nosy little brat, haven't you? Sticking your nose in places you shouldn't... I'm surprised he wants you _alive_... Maybe he just wants to have a bit of fun with you before he eliminates you..."

Harry only heard the first few sentences, then he tuned her out. _They were ordered here — to get me alive? Why?_ he wondered, keeping an eye on Bellatrix. _Does he know...?_

The Death Eater chose that moment to lunge at him, knocking the wand out of his hand. Harry lashed out at her, reaching desperately for his wand. _I haven't got a chance without this!_ Bellatrix fell off him, giving him just enough time to snatch the little stick from the floor. He crawled backwards, then pulled himself up against the wall, the arm holding his wand still trained on Bellatrix.

The gaunt woman stood and held out her arms. She smiled mockingly, and Harry realized that she had lost her wand in the scuffle; it lay on the floor just a few meters from where Harry was standing.

"Well go on," Bellatrix said. "I'm unarmed. I can't do anything to you. You can finish it right now."

Harry stood there stock-still. Bellatrix continued, "Aren't you going to avenge my filthy cousin? I haven't forgotten, you know. You swore to kill me, remember that? So what are you waiting for?"

Harry stared at her, wand hand shaking. They stood that way for what felt like hours, each staring at the other. Finally, Bellatrix smirked. "I knew you couldn't. You have no love for killing, you can't let yourself do it. That's what made me and my cousin so different, Potter, and you're just like him. You're _weak!_" She scornfully spat at his feet.

Harry was still frozen. _She's right. I can't do it. I've never been able to, and I never will. I — I can't bring myself to kill someone..._ But then how would he ever be able to fulfill the prophecy? He did not want to kill, but neither did he want to be the one to die. He'd have to do it sometime...

Bellatrix was looking at him as if he were a mildly interesting bug. Harry knew she was expecting him to do something, but her speech had brought out something in him that he had never been able to face before.

_I can't do this... I'm sorry, Sirius._

Harry swallowed and turned halfway toward the door. He waved Bellatrix towards it with his wand. "Come on," he muttered. "I have to look for one of my friends, and I'm not letting you get out of my sight."

She smirked again and nearly sauntered through the door, obviously sure he couldn't do any real damage. Harry made sure to stay a few steps just behind her, scooping up her wand as he went by it. He herded her up the steps to the second floor, where Aunt Petunia was still crouched at her bedroom door. She looked up as Harry passed with his prisoner. "Who is that?" she exclaimed. "One of those people from next door? Vernon was right!"

Harry nodded slightly, then glanced inside the room. Luna wasn't there. "Er, Aunt Petunia? Did you see a girl pass by here? One of my friends came up here after I did."

Aunt Petunia sniffed. "I didn't see anyone. I was too busy hiding from _those_ people," she said, jabbing her finger in Bellatrix's direction, "to notice much of anything."

Harry and Bellatrix entered another room, Harry's old bedroom. It also appeared to be empty, but when Harry turned to go, he heard someone squeak, "Oh... Harry!"

He twisted back just in time to see Luna crawl out from under the junk-laden bed. Her robes were all cobwebby and there was a fine layer of dust on her hair, but she grinned up at Harry. "Hello, Harry."

"Uh..." Harry didn't know what to say. What in the world had driven Luna to crawl under the bed? "What — Why were you — What were you doing under there, Luna?"

She stood up and dusted herself off. Bellatrix watched expressionlessly. Luna looked up and jumped back, apparently seeing the Death Eater for the first time. She appeared flustered by her presence. "Well, um... I — I was looking for the —" She stopped and glanced uncertainly at Bellatrix.

"Go on," Harry said quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to the fact that he was searching for the keys to Voldemort's mortality. If Bellatrix Lestrange escaped, she would be able to carry the information directly back to Voldemort.

Luna continued, "I couldn't find — it, so I was about to leave when I heard Ron and everyone else shouting and fighting, so I stayed under there. I suppose they were fighting You-Know-Who's people?"

"Yes. Luna, could you go downstairs to the living room, and see how Ron's doing? He's hurt really badly."

"Alright, Harry," Luna said. The three of them left the room and Luna floated down the stairs. Harry watched her, then turned to Aunt Petunia, who was still on the floor. "I think you can get up now," he said.

His aunt got up and backed into her bedroom, staring wide-eyed at Bellatrix. She nodded wordlessly, then snapped, "Get out of my house, Harry. Vernon is bound to come bursting in here, and I don't want him to see — all this. Please be gone in ten minutes." She slammed the door in his face.

Harry stared at the door a moment. He sighed, turning around and heading toward the steps. He had temporarily forgotten Bellatrix Lestrange. That was his first mistake, and in a minute he came to regret it.

His second mistake was when he completely turned his back to her to go down the stairs, giving Bellatrix the perfect opportunity. She recklessly launched herself at him, screeching in triumph. Harry straightened up and spun round to see the woman's outstretched hands mere inches from his face. There was no time to use his wand. He twisted sideways, slamming his body against the railing. A knife of pain shot through his spine, but he pushed himself into the barrier, as far away as he could get from Bellatrix.

Her shout of triumph soon turned into a cry of fear as she fell past Harry, missing him by inches. Her hands shot out for a hold, gripping thin air, trying to stop her momentum, but there was nothing to hold onto, and she fell all the way down to the bottom floor, letting out a piercing scream as her body smashed into the ground. There was a sickening crunch when she made contact, and the scream was abruptly cut off. She had broken her neck.

Bellatrix Lestrange was dead.

Harry felt sick, looking down at her. The unnatural position of her body made her look like a grotesque puppet, one whose strings had been cut by its owner. Harry tore his eyes away and grimaced, fighting off the urge to throw up all over Aunt Petunia's vacuumed carpet.

He'd known he had to do something about the Death Eater, ever since she had caused Sirius's death, but he had never imagined anything like this. It was such a horrible way to die... It was sort of ironic, he supposed. Sirius had fallen to his death... It was appropriate that his killer fell to her death as well. The ultimate example of poetic justice. Sirius had been avenged.

So why did Harry feel so bad about it?

Every time he looked at her twisted body, he felt another wave of nausea — and guilt. He had no idea why. Shouldn't he be celebrating, happy that Sirius's murderer and one of Voldemort's biggest supporters was finally dead? Instead, he had a sense that somehow he should have been able to save her, to stop her from plunging to her death. _What's the matter with me?_

Harry didn't know what to do with the body. He was loathe to touch it, but he felt he had no choice. Aunt Petunia would go crazy if she came out to the sight of a corpse at the bottom of her steps. So Harry, cringing, pulled it by the robes out to the backyard. He had a moment of grim humor, as he dug a hole in the dirt: _What would their neighbors say if they saw the Dursleys' nephew burying a body in their lawn?_

He dug a deep grave into the yard with his wand and rolled the body into it. No special services or fancy markers for her, the last of the Lestranges. She got a plain hole in the ground. _And that's more than she deserves,_ Harry thought. But not even his hatred for her would deny her a grave, so he covered her over with dirt and found a small, smooth rock for the headstone. He only wrote her initials on the bottom, and placed it carefully at the spot where her head was.

Harry brushed the dirt off his robes and reentered the house. He found Hermione and Luna gathered around Ron on the living room floor. "The other two Death Eaters are still in the kitchen, with Neville," Hermione explained. "Luna told us you had Bellatrix Lestrange with you." She frowned as she noticed Bellatrix's absence. "Where is she?"

Harry reluctantly told them about the woman's fall. Hermione gasped in horror. "Oh, Harry."

"Never mind," Harry said quickly. "How's Ron doing?"

"We think he's going to be alright," Hermione said. "I found some bandages in the bathroom, and Luna said she knows a lot about first aid. He's got a big cut in his side, and something happened to his ribs, but he's going to be alright. He won't be able to walk around for awhile, though. How will we get out of here, Harry? Is there any chance your aunt could let us stay a couple days?"

"No way," Harry said. He repeated what Aunt Petunia had told him just before Bellatrix's death.

Hermione sighed. "Then I guess we'll have to go, and soon. Your uncle will be very angry if we're here when he comes in. Where should we go next?"

"Well... I think we should just get out of this house, and this neighborhood, so that nobody will be able to say that they saw us. Then I want to take a look at the Horcrux..."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "You found it! Where? What is it? How did you know...?" She took a deep breath. "Okay. What should we do with the Death Eaters in the kitchen?"

* * *

At that very moment, one of the Death Eaters was trying to wriggle himself out of the ropes around his arms, but he was being watched too closely by Neville. Harry suddenly appeared in the doorway, a wicked grin on his face. He held a black ski mask and jeans in his hands. Hermione and Luna were just behind him, carrying the same things.

"What the hell are those for?" the man snarled.

Harry grinned. He held out the mask and another coil of rope. "You."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Harry and his friends were standing under a lamppost, admiring their handiwork. Ron had regained consciousness and was groggily leaning on Hermione for support, who didn't seem to mind at all.

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Perfect," he said. "Hermione, you're a genius. This is brilliant!"

The two Death Eaters were now dressed in clothes that made them look suspiciously like stereotype thieves. They had been tied up and were hanging from the lamppost, glaring down at the five teenagers. One of them let off a string of muffled curses and hexes through the cloth stuffed in his mouth, but since their wands had been confiscated, he couldn't do a thing. Harry shouted up, "Don't waste your breath."

He faced the others and smiled apologetically. "Well, let's get going. We've got a long way to go."

As they slowly walked away from the inhabitants of Privet Drive, the jewelry box in Harry's robes pocket banged against his side, a small reminder of what was to come, and the task that lay ahead for Harry. He sighed and took his mind away from the bleak prospect of more Horcrux hunting, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, one step at a time.

_Yes sir, we've got a long way to go._


	12. Rowena's Box

Chapter 12 — Rowena's Box

They reached a wide, open field about five miles from Privet Drive late the next day. It was deserted except for two boys playing with a dog on the other side of the field. The five friends were completely ignored as they wearily trudged across the field to a small, secluded part sheltered by a cluster of trees. Harry called everyone to a halt and sat down on a forgotten bench in the corner. Everybody else sat down and gathered around him.

Harry pulled Rowena Ravenclaw's jewelry box from his pocket. "Alright, let's try and crack this thing open." He passed it to Hermione first, who took it gingerly and stared at it in awe. "So this is it?" she whispered. She inspected it from all sides, then unsuccessfully tried to pry the lid from the bottom part. "Do you have any idea how we're going to do this, Harry?" She passed the box to Ron, who began banging it against his knee.

"Not really," Harry said. "Dumbledore never told me how he destroyed the ring, and I guess I never thought to ask him. D'you have any ideas?"

Ron suddenly swore at the box, glaring viciously at it. "How are we supposed to get this stupid thing open, Harry? Whatever it's got inside, it sure doesn't want to let it go!" He tossed the box to Neville, who stared at it wide-eyed. They all watched in silence as he tentatively prodded the lid with his wand.

There was a loud explosion, and Neville's head was engulfed in a cloud of dark green smoke. Harry jumped up and drew his wand, but wasn't quite sure what to do with it.

When the smoke cleared a few minutes later, Neville's confused face appeared. He waved the leftover fog away and ran his fingers through his hair, which was now sticking straight up, as if it had been electrocuted. The tip of his nose was singed. A fine layer of soot had accumulated on his wand. "Well," he coughed, "at least now we know what _not_ to do. I guess it doesn't like wands."

Still coughing, he handed the box over to Luna, who took it cautiously. The box hadn't suffered from the explosion at all and, apart from a faint odor of acid, was exactly the same as it had been before.

Luna quickly gave it back to Harry, who was staring at Neville. "And all you did was poke it with your wand?" he asked skeptically. He watched Neville as he tried to flatten his hair, which gave off sparks. Neville nodded miserably.

Harry shook the box by his ear. He heard nothing, yet something, some force inside, was keeping the lid glued shut. He grabbed the edges and, bracing the box against his knee, pulled with all his might. He strained against the pressure, but the lid seemed to be nailed in place, and wouldn't budge. Harry finally gave up and tossed the small box onto the grass in front of them. "I swear, it'll be a miracle if we can ever get this thing open! Voldemort sure knew what he was doing."

"Want to have a go, Hermione?" Ron asked. "As the resident genius, surely you've got some sure-fire plan to get rid of it."

Hermione picked it up, a pained look on her face. She turned it over and examined it from all four sides. She waved her wand over it several times in a complicated pattern, tried peering through the crack in the lid, then tried to crack it open with a large rock, but it wasn't even scratched. Everyone else watched in silence. At last she gave up and burst, "I – I just don't know, Harry! I've never encountered anything like this before... I have no idea what to do! Surely Professor Dumbledore gave you some advice, hints to destroy or open Horcruxes..."

Harry's despair mounted. What chance did they have if even Hermione couldn't think of a way to solve this impossible, unbreakable puzzle? _If only Dumbledore were still here..._ "No, he didn't tell me anything. I'm not even sure what he was planning to about the – the locket." His hand automatically grasped the locket around his neck, teeth clenched. "I don't know what to do..."

"Would – erm – Would 'Avada Kedavra' be able to do anything about this?" Ron said awkwardly.

Harry laughed dryly. "Even if I had the nerve to use that spell, which I don't, it probably wouldn't work. As far as I know, 'Avada Kedavra' is only for living things: people, or animals. I doubt it'll work on a box, Horcrux or no Horcrux."

Hermione threw down the jewelry box in frustration. "Then what are we supposed to do? How did Professor Dumbledore expect you to be able to do this on your own? Even all together, we can't do it! And there isn't anyone around, any older wizards or witches, who could help us."

"I bet McGonagall knew something about Horcruxes," Ron mused. "Wonder if Dumbledore told her something about these. Or Slughorn, possibly..."

Harry snorted. "Slughorn wouldn't help us even if he did know something. He's too scared of Voldemort. And who knows where McGonagall spends her summers, we'd have a better chance of finding Snape's hideout than –"

He stopped. "Snape," he breathed. "Snape... Wouldn't he have known – I mean, he was in on Voldemort's inner circle... Yes, he could..."

Ron looked startled. "Snape?" he said. "Dumbledore would have trusted Snape with something that big? That's even worse... I mean, if he did go directly back to You-Know-Who on – on that night, wouldn't he have told him about all you and Dumbledore knew? Wouldn't he have wanted to let him know, being the spy and all?"

"But then why would he have gotten away from the other Death Eaters?" Hermione asked. "The quickest way back to V-Voldemort would've been with them..."

Harry kept silent as his friends discussed Snape. He didn't tell them what Dumbledore's portrait had told him, that Snape was still trusted and supposedly on their side. He didn't completely believe it himself. _How could Snape be on our side after doing such a terrible thing?... And how could Dumbledore still trust him... even when he's dead because of him?_

Harry tore himself back to the present and saw Hermione smirking at Ron, who was looking crestfallen and appeared to have lost their argument. "So that's that," she said smugly. "Snape wouldn't dare to go back there, both the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix will be watching that house, he wouldn't dare hide out there. Too many enemies to see him."

"Where?" Harry asked quickly. "What – Do you have any ideas as to where he might have hidden?"

Hermione gave him an exasperated look. "Yes, Harry. Haven't you been listening? Ron said what if Snape had gone back to Grimmauld Place, and I told him of course not, Snape wouldn't dare show his face in the Order's headquarters, not after killing their leader, so –"

"Grimmauld Place!" Harry burst. "Ron, you're a genius!"

Ron grinned hesitantly, looking pleased but slightly confused by the compliment. Hermione instantly looked hurt. "What?" she said sharply. "_He's_ a genius? Did I miss something? Why on earth would Snape run to Grimmauld Place?"

"No, it's perfect, don't you see?" Harry began pacing, mind working furiously. "Snape could've run to the Order headquarters to keep away from Voldemort, and maybe to hide with the Order as well..."

"What – What are you talking about, Harry?" Ron asked slowly. Harry saw him and Hermione exchange a glance that clearly said, _Harry's finally lost it. Ginny's death's got to his head at last... _"Why would Snape want to hide from You-Know-Who with the Order, when it's the Order he betrayed, and the Death Eaters are his side? Are you sure you...?"

"I'm fine." Harry swung on his heel and walked back, thinking. _If Dumbledore was right, and Snape really is on our side, going back to the Order of the Phoenix would have been his only chance for redemption, to prove he was innocent... But they wouldn't have been there, because they disbanded after Dumbledore's death, leaving the house – my house_, he realized with some surprise. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was now his._ So I can get in, even if nobody else can... or can they? With their Secret-Keeper gone, would the Order, or Snape, even be able to get into the house? Or would only the ones who had been told by Dumbledore before he died still be able to get inside, but no one new?_

He spun around again to continue his pacing, but then noticed his four friends staring at him expectantly. _Oh yes, I didn't say any of that aloud, did I?_

He reluctantly filled them in on what Dumbledore had told him regarding Snape's loyalties. For once, Luna listened hard enough that when he got to his reasonings about Grimmauld Place she actually raised an eyebrow in interest.

When he'd finished, Hermione murmured, "So apparently Professor Dumbledore did have a good reason for trusting Snape. But –"

Ron cut of Hermione, shouting violently, "What the crap is Dumbledore's problem! Snape killed him, for God's sake! How can he possibly say he still trusts him, after that? Snape murdered him in cold blood! If I'd been killed by somebody I trusted, I sure wouldn't trust him anymore! Is he completely mental or what? That's just... That's just..." He struggled for the right word for a moment, then seemed to deflate in front of their eyes. _That's exactly it,_ Harry thought.

"Be quiet, Ron," Hermione hissed. She jerked her head behind them, at the boys playing on the other side of the field. They had come slightly closer, and were now staring strangely at Ron, who waved cheerfully at them before sitting back down. The two boys stared at him a moment longer, then seemed to shake themselves and continue their game.

"Do you want the whole world to hear about what we're doing?" Hermione whispered reproachfully. "If you do, please, keep shouting like that."

"Sorry," Ron muttered. He looked over at Harry. "Okay, well let's just say you're right, shall we? So d'you want to go running off to Grimmauld Place to see if Snape has some fantastic potion or spell that can somehow destroy this stupid thing?" he asked, nudging the little box on the ground with his foot.

"I don't know," Harry sighed.

They all sat in silence, staring down at the small box that had been the cause of so much trouble. At one point, Ron joked feebly, "Could use a basilisk fang about now, eh?" When no one laughed, he clamped his mouth shut and went back to looking at the Horcrux.

Hermione was the first to break the silence. "It's made out of wood... Could fire do something to it?" she suggested.

Harry picked it up and glared down at it. "I suppose it's worth a try."

They built a small, enclosed fireplace in their midst and lit some dry leaves on fire. Harry, coughing from the billows of smoke, tossed the box into the very center of the fire and prodded it deeper into the flames with a damp stick. They left it there for just over ten minutes, until Neville muttered, "If that was a normal jewelry box, it'd only be a pile of ashes by now."

Hermione put out the fire with a stream of water from her wand, then kicked at the rectangular mound of black ash so it fell out of the fireplace. They all peered down at it for a minute. Finally Harry picked it up and blew on it. They all groaned in dismay as a thick layer of soot flew off the box, which seemed perfectly unharmed by the flames.

"Oh, man..." Ron muttered, putting his face in his hands. "This is bad."

Harry closed his eyes. _All that... and there's not even a dent, not even a corner burnt off._ But there had to be something! Harry opened his eyes again and inspected the box anew. Nothing... Nothing... It didn't look as if they'd done anything to it. His gaze flicked over a small gouge visible in the soot, and immediately thought, _Just a bit less ash there._ But there was something about it... Harry brushed all the ash off the box and studied the corner that had caught his eye. He started, looking more closely at it.

_There was a big chunk of wood missing!_

"You guys..." he breathed. "Ron.. Hermione, Luna, Neville! Come here and take a look at this!" Attracted to the excitement in his voice, they all gathered closer. "Look at this!" Harry said. He pointed at the corner that was missing a part of itself. "Does that seem a bit... dented... to you?"

Hermione grabbed the box out of his hands and sat back in her place, staring at it. "Oh. My." She automatically scratched at the spot. Her mouth dropped open.

Ron tapped her impatiently on the shoulder. "Hey, give us a look, will you?"

He almost fell backwards off the log he'd been sitting on as Hermione suddenly jumped up, pointing at the corner and squealing excitedly, "Oh, Harry! Do you – Do you know what this means! You've found the weak spot! If you – If we're going to open this box, this is where we're going to have to do it! Oh, Harry!" She swooped down on Harry and kissed the top of his head. Harry noticed that Ron looked faintly annoyed. "Harry! This is the one and only place we could open it from! The weak spot will give us access to the inside!" She danced gleefully around in a little circle, laughing loudly.

Ron shot Harry a look that he could easily interpret. "Er, Hermione... Are you alright?"

Hermione slowed down and sat back heavily. "Sorry," she said meekly. "It's just – After so long, so many failed ideas... we've found success! And now we know how we're going to destroy this thing!"

"Uh... We do?"

She stared at Harry. "What? You mean – You mean you still don't know?"

"NO, we don't," Ron said impatiently. "Would you please enlighten us? And –" he snatched the box from Hermione's weakened grip, "– some of us still haven't even seen whatever it is you two are goggling over." He studied the corner, beginning to goggle himself. "Oh, wow."

Hermione, ignoring him, began to explain. "You see, now that the outer magical layer of wood has been burnt off, we've made a section of the box vulnerable. Everything we try on that corner, now, it'll work! You found the weak spot. Remember what happened when Neville prodded it with his wand?"

"Yes," Neville cut in ruefully, still trying to fix his crackling hair.

"Well, now that we've uncovered a bit of unenchanted wood, if we prod that part with our wands, or try to do anything to it there, that won't happen to us anymore! We can do things to it, and it won't be able to fight back! And, since we found some normal wood..."

"Could we use the 'Reducto" spell?" Harry asked, catching some of Hermione's excitement.

Hermione beamed. "We should be able to!" she said. She drew her wand from her robes pocket, then hesitated. "Would you like to do the honors, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry said grimly. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Rowena Ravenclaw's jewelry box. He opened his mouth, but stopped just before uttering the spell. "Will it also work on the piece of soul inside? Once the box is history, I don't want to have a full-blown Voldemort jumping out at me, like the diary did."

"It should work," Hermione encouraged.

"Go on, Harry!" Ron said eagerly. Luna and Neville nodded in agreement, eyes fixed upon the little box in Harry's hand. "Give it a good big blast, and I hope You-Know-Who feels it!"

Despite himself, Harry grinned. He turned back to the box and directed the wand at the weakened corner. He paused for a moment, hit by the significance of what he was about to do._ If this works, one-fifth of Voldemort will finally be gone. If this works, there won't be any turning back... I'll really have to finish this thing, these events that Dumbledore started..._ He closed his eyes and bellowed, "_REDUCTO!_"

It came out louder and stronger than he'd intended, and he felt a wave of power explode from the end of his wand, smashing into the box in his right hand. He opened his eyes in time to see the box shake, vibrating with the force of his spell. It seemed to glow for a moment, then gave out a loud, painful shriek before bursting into a thousand splinters. A few flew into his hand, and Harry quickly closed his eyes and tilted his head back, gritting his teeth against the pain. He hadn't been expecting such a violent explosion, and all he could think was that Hermione, Ron, Luna, and Neville had better have closed their eyes, too.

The onslaught of splinters ceased after a minute, and Harry cracked his eyelids open. He fully opened his eyes and looked down, at his right hand. At least ten huge splinters were sticking out of his palm. He felt a wave of nausea, and forced himself to look up, at his friends. They all seemed shaken, but unharmed. "Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry tried to nod, but at that moment he felt a horrible burrowing sensation in his right palm. A strange, tingling pain slowly began to creep up his arm. _There must have been a curse on the very inside of the wood,_ Harry thought vaguely. He heard Ron shouting as if from a great distance away, then fell to the ground as everything went black.


	13. The Famous Patient

Chapter 13 — The Famous Patient

Harry drifted in and out of consciousness. At one point he heard voices and felt something press into his back; then there was a shooting lance of pain in his right arm, and the blackness blessedly took him again.

When he finally woke, his foggy, delirious mind told him he was in a bed. _No, I fell onto the grass in the field_, he argued. But his brain insisted, said to open his eyes and see for himself. Harry cracked his dry eyes open and saw a blurry fog of white above his head. Harry frowned. That wasn't right. Wasn't the sky blue? He tried opening his eyes further, but the sky still looked fuzzy. _I'm not wearing my glasses,_ he finally realized. _What happened to them?_

His wand arm felt numb and yet at the same time tingly, almost as if it were asleep, so Harry lifted his left hand and reflexively groped for his glasses. He turned his head and could just make out a short little table next to him. He reached out blindly; finding the glasses at last, he put them on and started as everything came into focus.

He was in a large, white room, in a bed with railings. Chairs were scattered around the room. Ron occupied the one by the bed, sleeping soundly. His head was tilted back and he was snoring loudly. Neville and Luna were also close by, reading magazines in other chairs. Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

_I'm in a hospital!_ Harry struggled to sit up, but found he couldn't. He looked and saw that his right arm was strapped to the bed. His numb hand was suspended in a bright orange potion that occasionally bubbled. As far as he could tell, the splinters were all gone, but his hand felt very swollen.

Harry licked his lips and tried to talk, but all that came out was a faint groan. He tried again, this time managing a croaky, "Ron?"

Ron's eyes snapped open. "Huh?" He then spotted Harry and grinned sleepily. "Finally awake, are you? You gave us quite a scare back there, mate. We thought we might've lost you."

Harry grimaced. "It's that bad, eh?" He tried to undo the straps holding him down, but his hand wouldn't work properly.

"Let me," said Ron instantly. After a bit of struggling, he'd gotten Harry free. "God, they don't make this easy, do they?"

Harry sat up and immediately asked, "Where are we?"

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but Luna and Neville had finally noticed Harry was awake. "Hello, Harry," Luna said dreamily. "Are you alright?"

Neville burst, "That was one of the coolest things I've ever seen, Harry! That _'Reducto'_ spell was really strong, it made the whole box explode into a million pieces! It was amazing! It did do something bad to your hand, though. There were thirteen huge splinters in your palm, it took ages for the Healers to get them out."

_Healers? That would explain the potion..._ This was all too much at once for Harry. "Alright, where am I? How'd you get me here? And... where's Hermione?"

Ron took a deep breath. "Well, once you'd destroyed the Horcrux — it is destroyed, you know — you got a lot of cursed splinters in your hand, and Hermione had no idea how to get them out. So we sort of picked you up and Apparated you to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical something blah-blah... anyway, they got you in right away and sorted your hand out. I'll tell you, having a famous patient sure got the Healers moving. You were with a bunch of them for at least four hours, trying to get the splinters out. And as for your last question, far as I know Hermione's out in the hall, talking with one of the Healers who helped you."

"Ah," said Harry, digesting all this new information. He was about ready for a brand-new set of questions when Hermione came in. A tall, handsome young man with bright blue eyes and dark blond hair entered just behind her. As he was wearing Healer's robes, Harry assumed he was the one who'd been talking with Hermione.

"Oh, good, Harry, you're awake," Hermione said brightly. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," Harry said. "I was just —"

Hermione cut him off, continuing breathlessly, "Great! This is Healer Brooks, Harry, he's the one who helped figure out how to fix your hand."

The man smiled, turning to Hermione. "Please, call me Robert; all my friends do." Hermione blushed and smiled happily. Ron in turn scowled at Robert Brooks, who didn't seem to notice he was even in the room. "I'm glad you're awake, Mr. Potter. You've been unconscious for nearly twelve hours, you know."

Harry glanced over at Ron, then said, "No, I didn't. How bad was it?"

Brooks pulled up a chair next to Harry. He seemed to find it very uncomfortable, and a moment later had pushed the chair away and instead stood at the foot of the hospital bed. Harry noticed that his eyes often darted up to the scar on his forehead as he spoke. "Mr. Potter... You had thirteen splinters of cursed wood lodged inside your right hand. Each being almost two-and-a-half inches long, they were coated with a poison known simply as Aquamortis which, when injected into the skin, normally causes paranoia, hallucinations, paralysis, and ultimately death. This... variety of cursed poison, however, seems to directly skip the hallucinations and immediately begin the process of paralyzing the body to a slow, painful death. We here had never before seen such a type of Aquamortis, and so we weren't sure how to stop it without killing you in the process."

He began drumming his fingers repeatedly on the top of the board at Harry's feet, which was quite distracting to Harry. It didn't help the headache that was slowly building up at the edge of his brain, either.

Brooks took a deep breath and said, "Let me get right to the point, Mr. Potter. You were injected with at least three times the amount of Aquamortis I have ever even seen, much less extracted from one single person. Only half of that poison could kill armies within hours; a young wizard like yourself would have had half that time to live, and most of it would be spent in a coma. That massive dose should have killed you instantly, but here you are, alive and recovering. You may have some physical limitations with that hand from now on, but it could have — _should_ have been much worse." He seemed ready to leave, but before he did, he looked Harry straight in the eye. "All I'm trying to impress upon you is how incredibly fortunate you are to be listening to me right now. You're the luckiest person I've ever had the chance to meet, Harry Potter."

He shook Harry's hand and swept out of the room after smiling warmly at Hermione, and nodding to Ron, Neville, and Luna. Ron scowled fiercely, but once again Brooks completely ignored him.

The door closed behind the young medic, and Ron turned to Hermione, who was staring after Brooks. His scowl deepened. "Just talking about Harry's condition, were you?" he snapped moodily. "Seems to me that wasn't all you were talking about."

Hermione blushed, but wouldn't back down. "So what if I was? I'm allowed to make new friends apart from you and Harry, Ronald!" She huffed and dropped into a chair across the room, pointedly turning it to face away from the two boys.

Ron wisely decided not to answer, but his expression darkened visibly. Harry saw this and bit his lip, torn between laughing at Ron or joining Hermione. He finally decided to do neither, instead withdrawing into his own mind to think things through.

Ron was obviously getting more tenacious about his relationship with Hermione, who was slowly branching out from their little group. Harry couldn't blame her for wanting to make new friends, but knew Ron would not see it that way. Not when that friend was a handsome young man who was clearly attracted to Hermione.

Harry felt he was becoming even more the middleman in the tangled web their simple friendship had become. He was sick of having to deal with all their stupid jealousies, the fights that grew worse and worse as they got older. He knew it would never end until Ron plucked up the nerve to confess his feelings for her, which was inevitable. But then would he be shunted to the side as Ron and Hermione, his two best friends in the world, became a "they"?

Harry was jarred out of his reflections by Ron muttering, "That git Brooks, he's not..." He looked up at Harry, muttered some more, then said desperately, "Harry... What if she — what if she_ likes_ him?"

Harry tried to act oblivious, half-hoping the question would be dropped, but knowing it wouldn't. "What d'you mean, if she likes him? You know she is right, Ron, she's got the right to make other friends..."

Ron snorted. "Oh, come on, Harry, you saw the way he was looking at her. And she was..." He trailed off, looking a bit abandoned. Then he suddenly made a violent gesture with his hands, as if strangling an invisible neck. "Robert Brooks!" he snarled. "Robert Brooks! God knows life would be better if it weren't for that... that..." He paused for a moment, apparently struggling to find the right word. "...that _toad_ Robert Brooks! I swear, if he comes in here like that one more time..."

"Well, if Robert wasn't alive —" Harry began.

"Don't call him 'Robert'!" Ron snapped.

His friend glared at him. "Like I was saying. If — Brooks, then, wasn't alive, I'd probably be dead, remember?" He glanced down at his hand, which was twitching spasmodically in the bubbling potion. "What is this stuff, anyway?"

All the bravado seemed to leak out of Ron. He sighed and sank dejectedly back into his chair. "Not sure," he muttered. "It smells horrible, though."

"It's a mixture of murtlap and crushed pixiewing leaves, a kind of poisonous plant that counteracts the effects of Aquamortis," came a voice.

Ron jumped guiltily, as did Harry, as they saw Hermione standing at the foot of the bed. The look Harry shot Ron was quickly understood: How long had she been standing there? How much had she heard?

Hermione said nothing that betrayed whatever she'd heard, if anything. She simply continued her narrative. "Pixiewing leaves are what's making that potion bubble so much. It's also what's keeping your hand numb, otherwise you'd be feeling a terrible pain right now."

"Isn't murtlap that stuff you gave me for the... cuts I got on my hand from Umbridge?" Harry asked. He frowned, remembering those horrible detentions...

"Yes, essence of murtlap, actually," Hermione said. "It's also really quite helpful with —"

The door to the room suddenly banged open. Hermione, Ron, and Harry's heads all snapped up at once. "Speak of the devil..." Ron murmured.

Into the room came Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic; an Auror Harry faintly remembered being named Dawlish; and the person Ron had so appropriately called the devil: Dolores Umbridge herself. Behind them, Robert Brooks trailed, looking thrilled at the presence of the Minister.

"Looks like your boyfriend snitched," Ron whispered scathingly.

"He is _not_ my boyfriend!" Hermione whispered back, furiously. "And besides, you don't know he told them, it could've been —"

Rufus Scrimgeour immediately saw Harry. "Ah, yes... how wonderful. Thank you very much, Brooks, you will be well compensated for your call." Brooks grinned and half-bowed nervously, backing out of the room with an almost reverent air.

Just before the three reached them, Ron muttered sweetly to Hermione, "Does that obliterate your doubts?"

Hermione shot him a murderous look, but didn't get the opportunity to retort.

Scrimgeour motioned for Dawlish and Umbridge to sit down, then stood at the end of Harry's bed, looking down at him. The big man slowly began to shake his head, looking very much like that distant relative who pretends to care but really isn't that sorry about your predicament.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Harry got tired of the head-shaking. "What are you doing here, Minister?" he asked, as politely as he could make it sound.

Scrimgeour stood there for a minute, staring at him. Behind him, Harry could see Dawlish fidgeting, twirling his wand between his fingers. Umbridge was staring straight at Harry, that falsely sweet smile of hers stretching her mouth. Her eyes, however, did not match the rest of her expression at all; they were dark, cold pits in her pale face.

Harry shuddered. His right hand twitched again, but this time Harry was sure it had nothing to do with the bubbling potion. Through the murky orange he could still see the faint scars on the back of his hand: i I must not tell lies. /i

Her smile grew broader. Harry was sure she knew exactly what was going through his mind. A thought suddenly flashed to the surface. _What if she's a Legilimens?_ He tore his gaze from hers and quickly made himself block all outside forces from his brain.

Scrimgeour seemed to have finally gotten his thoughts together. He drew himself up importantly. "Just heard you were here, Harry, and I wanted to come and see how you were doing." He flashed a smile that was almost — but not quite — as fake as Umbridge's.

"He'd probably be doing a lot better if _she_ wasn't here," Ron said angrily, pointing at Umbridge.

Scrimgeour stared at Ron as if he hadn't even realized he was there. His eyes immediately took in Ron's red hair, freckles, and patchy robes. "No one goes anywhere in these dangerous days without companions, Mr. Weasley," he said coldly. He glanced at Neville, Luna, and Hermione, who'd all stood from their seats when he had walked in. Scrimgeour smiled in a scornful sort of way, turning back to Harry. "And it seems you know that better than most."

"Yes, but _her_?" Ron blurted. "She chopped Harry's hand open two years ago, and you bring her back here, right to him?"

Harry shook his head urgently, but it seemed he had been waiting to say this for a long time. "She was practically the worst thing to ever happen to Hogwarts! She obviously hated Harry, so what's she doing here now?"

Umbridge suddenly stood and approached the bed. Ron automatically shrank back, staring at her with wary eyes.

Umbridge's smile slipped. "I came to wish Mr. Potter a quick recovery," she said menacingly. "And I might remind you that he was only punished for telling the entire school things that the Ministry did not want being told at the moment. Classified information cannot be spread as a careless rumor. And I would watch what my mouth spouts off if I were you, Mr. Weasley. Not everyone is tolerant of an ill-spoken word."

She managed to put an edge on her last few words that made them a clear threat. Ron looked away from her, squeezing himself as far back into his chair as he could.

Harry was seething. So now Voldemort's return had been considered "classified information" two years ago, had it? When he had first said something about it, the Ministry had declared that everything he said was a nasty, attention-seeking lie. And now they were claiming it had just been a secret, to make it look like they'd still been in control then? He glared at Umbridge, hating her even more.

Scrimgeour waved for her to sit down, then conjured up a chair for himself. He stared almost hungrily at Harry, who began to feel very uncomfortable. _Where did they put my wand?_

"Well. This is nice," said the Minister. Harry snorted, but let him continue uninterrupted. "I haven't seen you since Albus Dumbledore's funeral, may he rest in peace. What have you been up to, Harry? The last time you were seen before your... accident, friends of mine told me you had a small box with you, that may have been the cause of your injury. What was that?"

_The boys with the dog!_ Harry thought angrily. _I_ told _Ron to keep his voice down... What does Scrimgeour know about the box? Does he really care, or is he just fishing?..._

Scrimgeour was looking at him expectantly. Harry's mind whirled. Should he just ignore the question about the box, tell a flat-out lie to the Minister of Magic, or spill everything, abandoning all caution for the chance to confide in someone?

Except Harry didn't trust him. Or Dawlish, and especially not Umbridge, for that matter. For all Harry knew, she was right in there with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He'd been told she definitely wasn't, but Harry wasn't quite sure he believed that. She was certainly nasty enough.

Scrimgeour was still staring, and Harry realized he hadn't answered yet. So he quickly thought up a lie.

"Near the end of the summer, I left my house to go to my friend Ron's house." Well, at least that was the truth. He chose to leave out the part about the fire and the Death Eaters. And Ginny... His throat constricted, making it hard to breathe. i Come on, stop thinking about that... Just talk/i "He, erm... he and another friend, Hermione," — he motioned towards Hermione — "they decided to meet up with me and visit a, um... a relative in a nearby part of London." Well, they had been planning to go to Grimmauld Place, before his accident. This just gave them an even better excuse. "We were on our way there, when two more of our friends met us and came along. As for the box, it was a present from my aunt. It's been in her family for a long time, and she wanted to pass it on. Unfortunately we ran into a bit of trouble on the road, and... it... it got lost." He sighed. Not too bad.

Scrimgeour shot him a piercing gaze, obviously doubting Harry's story. "And this heirloom, you could lose it so casually? I've also heard your aunt is not the most generous of persons."

Harry gulped. "Uh, it wasn't all that old, and I suppose she had a few of them."

"And the sudden generosity?"

Why did he have to be so nosy? Harry raced through his file of stories and excuses until he found one that was at least halfway plausible. He wryly remembered Dudley's torn backpack. "She's prone to fits of guilt, for me."

"I see." The Minister looked about ready for another round of interrogation, but Dolores Umbridge beat him to it.

She smiled coldly. "May I ask what happened to your hand, Mr. Potter? By what the Healers told us, you'd received quite an..._ extraordinary_ injury."

_Darn you, Robert Brooks,_ Harry thought sourly. _Did you have to tell the whole world that Harry Potter is in St. Mungo's? "Oh, yes, Harry Potter's in here with a poisoned hand, why don't you come over to gawk at the 'Chosen One'? I'm sure he'd love the extra publicity."_ He could almost picture it, too. He wondered what Scrimgeour meant by "well compensated."

Harry struggled to think up a believable accident that would bring about the symptoms Brooks had described. He was immensely relieved when Hermione saved him the trouble and said quickly, "He cut it. It was an accident, but he lost a lot of blood, it was horrible."

Brooks happened to re-enter the room then. He looked at Hermione strangely, then said, "Actually, his hand was pierced by over a dozen splinters of cursed wood. The splinters were also coated with a lethal poison that we had only seen twice before."

Harry was strongly reminded of Percy. For a moment he understood Ron's loathing of the young man, though for a different reason, and fiercely resented the railings between his hands and Brooks. i Just shut up, will you/i Harry shouted in his head. i Bully for you to make a bad situation worse! Please, stop now and there might be a chance to fix it/i

But the Healer was on a roll, and would not miss a chance to show Minister Rufus Scrimgeour what he knew. "I could show you one of the pieces if you'd like," he said eagerly. "It's called i Aquamortis /i , just one small dose could kill a grown man. And Mr. Potter here took..." He checked a large clipboard near Harry's bed. "He took thirteen two-and-a-half inch-long splinters coated with the stuff. And on top of that, the wood itself seemed to be horribly cursed. We're still running tests to determine exactly what sort of curse could cause so much damage. I just told him, a minute or two ago, he's extremely lucky to be alive."

"Wood splinters," said Umbridge thoughtfully. She directed an intense stare at Harry, who got the uncomfortable feeling that she suspected more than she let on. "Exactly how did you happen to lose that box again?"

Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna all looked at him. Harry knew they were all wondering how he would answer. So he chose not to answer at all.

Harry gave a huge, fake yawn. "You know, I'm really, really tired. I think I might just pass out again." He looked pointedly at his visitors. "Thanks for your concern, but I'm sure I'll be just fine."

Rufus Scrimgeour stood, frustration written clearly across his face. Dawlish and Umbridge quickly followed suit. The squat woman showed no emotion whatsoever, other than the thoughtful look that persisted. Dawlish was obviously anxious to leave, fidgeting more than ever as he attempted to slide nonchalantly toward the door.

"Alright, _Harry_," said Scrimgeour sharply. "I suppose I also came to tell you that my offer still stands —"

"No," Harry said immediately. "No, Minister, I have no plans on being the Ministry's mascot any time soon. Nothing you say or offer can convince me to do it, sorry. 'Dumbledore's man through and through,' remember?"

All traces of congeniality disappeared from Scrimgeour's face. "Dumbledore is _dead_, Potter," he spat. "Albus Dumbledore is gone. There's no hiding behind him anymore. It's time for you to look out for yourself and make the right decisions. You would do well to remember that those with power are not gone, and one misstep can make enemies of those you'd rather have as allies."

"One of the many prices I pay for being the Chosen One," Harry said coolly, thinking of Dumbledore, Sirius, Ginny. _Just one of the very many...  
_

Scrimgeour stared at him icily, then swept to the door without another word to Harry or his friends. He gave a curt nod to Brooks and walked briskly through the doorway, with Umbridge and the Auror close behind.

"Have a nice day, sir!" Brooks called, looking disappointed and slightly confused at the turn of events. Then, after a quick smile in Hermione's direction, he too left, closing the door behind him.

"Too-smart prat," Ron growled after him. "What was he thinking? Giving us away like that..."

"He was just doing his job, Ron," Hermione said, voice unnaturally high-pitched.

"Did a bit more than he had to, though, didn't he? The prat," Ron added under his breath.

Hermione looked furious. "Don't you call —"

"Hey!" said Harry, cutting their argument off. "I think it's about time we got out of here, don't you? Who knows who else Brooks might've told? If we're kept here much longer, we'll run out of time to find the other Horcruxes."

"So what are you saying, you want us to try and break you out of the hospital?" Hermione asked, horrified."

"Excellent!" said Ron. Then, to the other two: "Hanging around with Harry sure is an adventure, isn't it, Luna, Neville?"

"Yeah," Neville said weakly. His face looked a bit green.

Luna, on the other hand, seemed ecstatic. "Oh, yes!"

Hermione frowned. "But what about Robert? We can't just leave! Shouldn't we tell —"

"What about him?" Ron said angrily.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but seemed to think better of it and instead refused to look at him. In an effort to keep himself from smirking, Harry bit the inside of his cheek so hard it almost bled. He grimaced from the pain, and when he had recovered, the danger was over. "Alright then. How should we do it?"

Several suggestions were made, each of which proved too complicated. Finally Hermione came out of her shell and set to work. She presented her plan, and after a moment of furious brainstorming everyone agreed that it just might work.

"Okay, everybody know what to do?" Harry asked, already wondering gleefully how Umbridge and Scrimgeour would react to their escape.

"Yes," Hermione said hesitantly. "But Harry, what about your hand? Is it healed enough to go without the potion?"

_Oh yeah._ Harry pulled his limp hand out of the jar and tried flexing the muscles a few times. It looked red and sore, but after several good shakes feeling came back with a vengeance. He reached for his wand, which he'd found in a bedside drawer, and gave it a practice wave. Sparks flew out of it, but at the same time, Harry experienced a jolt of such intense pain that he momentarily blacked out.

When he opened his eyes a second later, everyone was looking down at him with expressions of fright and concern. "Are you alright, Harry?" Ron asked, looking scared.

"Yeah, m'alright," Harry mumbled, pushing himself back up. His hand was now covered with a thick layer of sweat, and although it no longer hurt, he felt the pain at the edge of his consciousness, waiting for an opportune moment to leap back to the surface. He collapsed back down.

"Robert warned us," Hermione whispered, clutching her robes worriedly. "He told us your hand wouldn't be the same. Oh, Harry... What are we going to do now?"

Harry closed his eyes in horror. He was right-handed. How could he possibly manage this way? He wouldn't be able to use his wand, write, do anything normally without these terrible lances of pain. He knew he couldn't ever use his hand casually again. He realized how much he had taken things like this for granted. What was going to happen now?

He opened his eyes and tried to grin, but even through it anyone could see that the loss of his hand had hit him hard. "Looks like I'll have to become left-handed," he said, a bit miserably.

They were still looking at him in a worried way, so he sat up. i I've got to beat this thing/i he thought. i I've got to/i He stood up and stumbled across the room, holding his injured hand awkwardly. His legs felt useless and heavy for a few steps, but he could soon use them properly again. He walked to a large closet as his friends watched silently.

"I'm going to get past this thing if it's the last thing I do!" he growled to himself. He reached the closet, yanked out his robes, and awkwardly pulled them one-handed over his head, nearly ripping them in his struggle. There was another, more minor stab of pain, but finally he did it and slowly made his way back to his friends.

After another round of the room, Harry regained his lost sense of balance and felt his hand was slightly better. Apart from the knowledge that he now had to learn to do things with his left hand, he felt wonderfully energized. He sat triumphantly back on his bed. Hermione slowly smiled, and even Ron looked impressed at his attempt at normalcy.

Neville clapped, grinning, and Harry felt a little embarrassed. But then, remembering the present task, he sat back and raised his eyebrow, trying to forget that he only had one working hand. He took a deep breath. "So... Ready to go?"


	14. Breakout

Chapter 14 — Breakout

Ellie Newt, a relatively new Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, was relaxing at the hall counter with a well-deserved cup of coffee. She was tired and ready for a good night's sleep, wearily telling a coworker about her busy day.

"...Jacobs still has those dentures clamped around his leg, the poor dear, but he says the pain is doing _so_ much better. And two De-Hexings in one day, I'm fair exhausted, but it was worth it, seeing the look on old Aggie's face when we got her back to normal..."

Her friend, an older woman called Martha, nodded sympathetically, speaking with a thick Scottish accent. "Aye, the poor soul, I saw her with those tins and bits of metal stuck all over her. Magnetism, wasn't it? But the day's almost over, once our shift is up you can have a nice, quiet —"

A door down the hall suddenly burst open, and a red-haired teenage boy sprinted out, panting heavily. He reached the desk and slumped against it, looking at the two startled women. "Old — Old Harold Aiken... Room Seventeen... He's gone mad!" the boy gasped. "I'd just... come in... to visit... He was asleep... Woke up and... started shouting and... he's completely gone off it!"

Sure enough, as Ellie and Martha pricked their ears, they could hear loud shrieks coming from Room Seventeen. Harold Aiken was in the hospital for hallucinations, and the two Healers believed he'd "seen" something again. They immediately grabbed their wands and ran into his room.

Behind them, the red-head could suddenly breathe normally and easily straightened, whispering into his watch, "It worked. D'you hear me? It's worked. We've got five minutes at most."

* * *

Two rooms down the hall, a group of kids waited just inside the door, listening intently to the commotion outside.

"Right," Harry muttered to Hermione, Luna, and Neville. "Ron says we have five minutes until the Healers realize what's going on. Let's go, hurry." They slowly began to sneak out the door, leaving an empty room behind.

Every step of it had been Hermione's idea. Ron had crept into a room and shocked a harmless old man into awakening with hysterical screams. They'd felt slightly guilty about that, but knew it was their best chance of getting out of the hospital. The man had shouted, over and over, "A red demon! A patchy red demon's come into my room to drag me into the abyss! Get it out, get it out, get it _out!_" It was only a matter of time before the Healers put two and two together and realized that Ron was the "patchy red demon." They had until then to quietly sneak away. If it worked, Harry would be able to both get away from the Ministry and continue his quest to destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes.

"Three down, three to go," Harry murmured to himself as they slid down the hall, hardly daring to breathe. "Halfway there, Dumbledore..."

The four friends reached the counter undetected and were joined by Ron. "You like my acting skills?" he whispered, grinning.

"Overdid it a little, don't you think?" Harry whispered back.

Ron made a face. "Hey, I never planned to be an actor anyway."

They had just rung for the elevator at the end of the hall when the women came out of Harold Aiken's room. "You!" the younger one shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at Ron. "You dirty little snake! What are you — _Is that a patient?_" She had spotted Harry.

"Come on, come _on!_" Harry smacked the elevator button again, and at last the doors slid open. They all piled in and Harry pounded on the "close" button. The Healers were feet away now. A vein throbbed in the older lady's neck, much like Uncle Vernon's. They both looked extremely angry, though they couldn't really be blamed for that.

The doors slid together right in the women's faces, and the elevator slowly began to move downward. Ron slumped against the wall. "Never again," he mumbled, shaking his head tiredly. "Never, ever again." Hermione smiled for the first time since her fight with Ron.

Harry grinned, watching the numbers above the door flash. Four... three... two... one. They got to the ground floor without being stopped. The bell rang, the doors opened...

...and Robert Brooks was gaping at them from the outside. "Harry Potter?" he gasped. His eyes darted about, taking in the guilty looks on their faces, their disheveled appearances, and Harry's swollen hand. "You're trying to sneak away, aren't you?" he said accusingly. He planted his feet in the door, folding his arms stubbornly. "Well, you're not getting past me."

The five looked around. The room they'd entered, the waiting room, was completely empty but for them and Brooks. _What do we do?_ Harry wondered.

Ron decided for him. Ignoring Hermione's shouts of "No, Ron, don't you dare!", he jumped at Brooks and mercilessly pulled him to the floor. There was a brief scuffle, in which more than one fist flew, and Ron stood the victor, grinning as he pocketed the young Healer's wand.

Brooks's face was now decorated with two extremely black eyes and a colorful bruise forming on his forehead. His nose also seemed to be broken; at least, it hung very crookedly from his face. Ron, on the other hand, sported no battle scars except for a scrape along his left cheek, which Harry suspected had come from the floor rather than from Brooks.

Ron grinned again. It looked a bit painful. "That's what comes of having five older brothers; you learn quite a few good fighting moves living with them for seventeen years."

Hermione discreetly tried to help Brooks up, but Ron snapped, "Leave him alone, Hermione." He pointed his wand at the young man. "Well, Brooks, it seems you've become a prisoner of war. I suppose we're stuck with you for a while, so pay attention: I don't like you, you don't like me. Just keep your distance and come quietly, and your face might not get any worse than it is now. Got it?"

There was a pause as Brooks spat a bloody tooth onto the polished floor. "I got it," he rasped. He glared up at Ron. "But if you were trying to get me on your side by beating me up, I must say you've got a funny way of building a friendship."

Ron's ears turned dangerously red. "I don't want you as a friend, Brooks."

After their tense exchange, they all filed out of the hospital, one at a time. First came Brooks, held at wandpoint by Ron, who was no more than three steps behind and still looked flushed and angry. Then there was Harry, keeping an eye on Ron. Hermione came after him, nervously biting her lip, and alternately glaring at Ron and shooting glances at Brooks. Neville walked after her, looking dumbstruck by Ron's fight with the young Healer. Luna was last and trailed behind, but kept darting to the others in front. Everyone was very quiet.

Finally, after they'd walked several blocks through the abandoned London streets away from the hospital, Harry deemed them safe from pursuit and broke the awkward silence. "Ron... What exactly are you planning to do with Brooks? You know he can't be with us the whole time... There's too much..."

"Yeah, I know," mumbled Ron. He sulkily stuffed his wand into his pocket after giving Brooks one last poke.

Harry expected Brooks to Disapparate immediately, but the young man's curiosity had obviously been aroused. He also seemed relieved to be free of Ron's merciless prodding.

Brooks touched his black eyes and winced. "Ouch. It's a good thing I'm a Healer, eh?" He chuckled feebly, but when nobody joined in he fell silent. "Um... Can I have my wand back, please?"

Harry nodded at Ron, who made an odd gargling noise in his throat as he handed the wand over. Brooks took it and waved it in a crooked circle around his nose, which straightened with a sharp cracking sound. He grimaced.

"Alright, em... you can go back now, Brooks," Harry said. "Sorry for the trouble, Ron can be a bit... overenthusiastic."

"Yes," said Brooks, grinning slightly. He made no move to return to the hospital, however. Harry finally decided to keep walking, hoping that he would let them go, but as they began to walk again he was acutely aware of Brooks's presence. He looked back and saw him shuffling along, just behind Luna and Neville.

Harry stopped again, exasperated. "I said —"

"I heard you," Brooks said. He bit his lip, then crossed his arms determinedly. "Look, I don't know where you're all going, or why you're traveling in a protective little group like this, but I'd like to know... I'm not leaving till you explain some of all this, and why you had to 'escape' St. Mungo's, especially with your hand still injured."

Harry lifted his wand in his right hand, wiggling it a little. Even as he did so, a sharp little knife of pain shot up his arm. "Does this look injured to you?" he asked through gritted teeth. He quickly switched the wand to his left hand and cleared his throat. "Anyway, it's none of your business where we're headed." He turned away.

"It is since _I'm_ the one who has to explain your sudden and violent departure to the doctors."

Harry sighed impatiently. _Persistent thing, isn't he?_ "Fine. I had to leave for two reasons: One, to get the Ministry of Magic off my tail; and two..." How to explain his Horcrux hunt without giving too much away? "And two, because I have some things I need to do, some extremely important things that could change the way this war against Voldemort ends. If I can't take care of these... things, him and his Death Eaters are definitely going to win."

Not surprisingly, Brooks flinched at hearing Voldemort's name, but looked awed nonetheless. "So then... So it's true?" he asked hesitantly. "I mean... Then all that happened in the Ministry two years ago, in the Department of Mysteries, that really happened? And you, you really are the — the 'Chosen One'?"

"No," Harry said quickly. The last thing he wanted was to have Brooks calling him the Chosen One all the time. "I mean, no, that 'Chosen One' stuff was just a mass of rubbish that some bored journalist decided would make for a good story. But yes, the Ministry..." He suddenly had to force the words through a lump that had formed in his throat. His mind forced him to watch Sirius fall through the veil all over again... "Yes, all that did happen."

An expression of amazement crossed Brooks's face. Harry could just imagine him going through all the Ministry rumors he'd ever heard about Harry that had just been proven true. "Wow..." he breathed. "It did..." He shook his head, and after a moment the important look came back to his face. "Well, be that as it may, no one is allowed to just run out of St. Mungo's without a certified Healer's permission. I understand your urgency to continue your noble quest, whatever it is, but this just isn't d —"

Harry gave him a look, cutting off his protests. Then Harry smiled, very nicely, and said politely, "Aren't _you_ a certified Healer?"

The question seemed to catch Brooks off guard. "Well... yes, I suppose I am, but..." he blustered, realizing he'd been caught in his own trap. "I didn't mean..."

"That's what you said," Harry said pleasantly. "Are you or are you not a fully certified Healer?"

Brooks ducked his head. "Yes," he muttered.

For a minute Harry almost felt sorry for him, but by that time it was too late to turn back. Ron, eager for the chance to torment the young man some more, had taken up Harry's train of thought. "Well, then, you can give him permission to leave," he suggested, grinning wickedly.

Brooks glanced back at Hermione, obviously hoping for her help. Ron watched him, and a dark, thundercloud-look descended over his face. His hands twitched dangerously, and Harry, eyeing them, decided it high time to take matters back into his own hands. He was reluctant to threaten Brooks, as he seemed a rather nice person, but felt the present circumstances demanded it. "Look, Brooks... Robert. We'd really like to get out of here as soon as possible, so if you could just tell the nice people at the hospital you gave me your permission to leave, I'd be really grateful. If, though, you find it _difficult_ to promise that, I'm afraid we'll have no choice but to..." He paused, trying to find the right word in an already delicate situation. "...incapacitate you until we are far enough away from St. Mungo's."

He let the Healer's imagination do the rest. Brooks blanched. Hermione shot Harry a sample of her death glare, which he ignored. Too much depended on the next words of Robert Brooks for him to concentrate on anything but. He waited tensely.

Everyone in the street let out an audible sigh of relief as Brooks said shortly, "Fine. I'll do it, but don't expect me to cover for you if you and your band are discovered and followed." He shook his head. "By allowing you to leave like this, I've already put my career at enough risk. Please don't ask me to do more."

"Fair enough," said Harry, pleased that their negotiations had gone so well. "Thanks a lot, Brooks."

Only one person was not happy. "No!" Hermione shouted, jogging up to Brooks. "No, Robert, you don't have to do this... You could come with us!" Behind her, Ron glowered. "You could come with us, we could use the extra help, and a Healer, that'd be wonderful! We could —"

Brooks shook his head, placing his finger on Hermione's lips to quiet her. "No," he said softly. "No. I'm sorry, Hermione, but... I can't. I would like to, you know I would, but I'm needed back. Besides..." He looked up and grinned slightly in Ron's direction. "You have others here," he murmured to Hermione, so quietly Harry could barely hear. "And... I think you know it." He smiled in a somewhat pained way, then released Hermione. "I'm glad to have met you, Hermione Granger, but here our paths must divide. I — I'm very sorry."

Hermione stepped away from him as though she'd been stung. She shook her head disbelievingly, searching Brooks's eyes, then turned away and fell to the back of their group, hugging herself and staring down at the sidewalk.

Harry's respect for the young man increased. _Letting her go like that... And for Ron yet! That's just..._ He knew Ron would never speak of him in a bad light again. He thought. He hadn't really liked Brooks at first, but the longer he knew him the more he saw what a kind and perceptive person he was. Harry wondered how many more sides his personality had, then reflected sadly that they would most likely never know.

He stepped toward Brooks, hand outstretched. Brooks took it, looking very surprised at the gesture. "I'm happy I met you, Robert. I only wish it had been under better circumstances. Goodbye, Robert."

They shook, a broad smile slowly growing on Brooks's face. "Thank you... Harry. I hope we meet again."

Neville and Luna said their goodbyes, then Ron came forward. A guarded look immediately sprang to the Healer's face.

Ron stepped in front of Brooks with a stony expression. Then he offered his hand. "Shake." Brooks took it, looking very bewildered.

Ron shook his hand, slowly at first, then more vigorously. "I — Listen, Brooks, I'm... I'm really sorry for... before. I mean... You're a really good guy. I'd be proud to call you my friend." He grinned. "Truce?"

Brooks grinned back, his look of astonishment quickly fading. "...Truce. Thank you, Ron Weasley."

"No," Ron murmured. "Thank _you_. For... you know."

The grin stretched wider. Brooks ruefully touched his black eyes. "Yes, well... I'm not about to get in the way of someone with such a mean punch." He stepped back and hesitated, glancing at Hermione, who still wouldn't look at him. "Alright... Goodbye... And Harry? Good luck with whatever it is you've got to do. I hope we see each other again, someday."

He took a step and bit his lip. "...Hermione?"

She came back and lifted her tearstained face to him. He squeezed her shoulder in a comforting way. "Listen to your heart, Hermione," he whispered. "It's no use having a brilliant mind when you don't follow your heart. Listen to what it has to say. There's someone great out there for you... Just let yourself find him."

"Oh, Robert..." Hermione hugged him tightly. "Goodbye."

Brooks gently pulled himself away, stepping back and smiling at them all. He winked at Harry. "You have my permission — as a certified Healer — to leave St. Mungo's. Goodbye, and good luck, everyone!"

The handsome young man stared hard at them, as if imprinting their faces into his memory. Then he smiled again, twirled in a little circle, and Disapparated, back to the hospital and out of their lives forever.

* * *

The five were silent as they continued their trek on the outskirts of London. Each was absorbed in his or her own thoughts, and for once Harry was glad for the silence. It gave him time to rearrange his own jumbled thoughts.

Now that he was gone, Harry sort of missed Robert Brooks, though they hadn't known him very long. Harry knew from experience how hard it was to let go of someone like Brooks had Hermione. He had obviously seen how Ron had reacted... how jealous he could get. _It got almost worse than with Krum!_

He flicked his gaze over to Ron. He was walking with a glazed, thoughtful look on his face. Every once in a while he would wander away from the others, to be gently guided back by Neville, who'd been keeping an eye on him. Harry didn't need three tries to guess what Ron was thinking about.

Harry honestly hoped they ran into Brooks again. He could prove a much-needed ally in the battle ahead. His abilities as a Healer would come in handy, too, as Harry doubted they would all make it through to the end without any casualties. In the last week alone, they'd already lost one...

The image of Ginny's final moments sprang unbidden to his mind. Harry pushed it back forcefully, sealing himself against the painful memories. He looked up and was surprised to see that they'd already gone at least three-quarters of a mile.

He looked round at the others. Luna and Hermione were huddled as they walked, whispering animatedly. Ron had come out of his stupor and was striding along confidently, a spring in his step that Harry had never seen before. He seemed much happier than he ought to have, considering the circumstances, but that was fine with Harry. In fact, it was wonderful. _As long as there aren't any fights going on, everything's great,_ Harry thought.

Harry fell back to walk beside Ron, who was now practically skipping. "What's put you in such a fine mood, mate? You look like someone put springs in your shoes and forgot to tell you about it."

Ron didn't laugh, but stopped bouncing. He regarded Harry thoughtfully. For a few minutes they walked on in silence. Then Ron said, "Nice guy, Brooks, wasn't he?"

Harry looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Very, considering you just about smashed his face to bits."

Ron didn't seem to have heard him. He stared off into the distance as he continued, "I expected him to want to stay with us, with Hermione, I mean, like she said... I didn't think he'd do something like he did, just... letting go, like that. I mean, I know he didn't know her very long, but still... He seemed to know... He was really nice, Brooks was. A good guy. Really weird."

Their procession turned a corner. "He actually reminded me a lot of Percy. You know, I expected to hate him. He could act like a real prat, sometimes."

Harry wasn't sure whether they were now talking about Percy or Brooks. He decided it was Brooks, but suddenly Ron seemed to switch conversation targets.

"Did we tell you Percy made up with our family? I think he's come round and finally accepted it, that Mum and Dad were right and the Ministry was wrong. We were really surprised... I think he liked Scrimgeour even more than he did Fudge. We didn't know if he'd ever come back. Then again, I suppose we didn't expect him to even come to Ginny's... funeral. I guess that was enough to bring him back, though. He told us that he'd never go away like that again... Think he's scared of losing anyone else.

"Harry?"

"Mmm?" Harry shot back to the present, away from the memory of Ginny's funeral, of Percy and his rose...

Ron looked at him. Harry realized they'd completely gotten away from the subject of Brooks, and dreaded what he knew must be coming next.

"Harry, I — I know how hard it was for you. Believe me, I don't think anyone knows better. Ginny — she was my sister. My only _sister_, Harry! So you can imagine..." Ron seemed to be on the verge of tears. "Harry, I still dream of her at night! I dream she's alive, perfectly normal dreams, and it doesn't feel weird at all! Then suddenly I see the fire, and the Death Eaters coming in..."

Harry swallowed. How had their conversation taken such a turn for the worst? Ron was now talking about something Harry had fought to avoid thinking about. But now the memories came back in full force, battering his newly broken heart to pieces.

Ginny in the burning house. Ginny, smiling at him. Ginny on the lawn, breathing her last. The moment of pure desperation, when Harry felt he would have done anything, _anything_, to get her back, to save her. The way Ginny looked, just before her heart stopped. Her final words to him, only to him, the words he had unknowingly ignored.

_"Don't forget me, Harry, will you? Please... whatever happens, don't forget..."_

_"I won't," Harry had promised. "I'll never forget you, Ginny. I'll remember you forever, I promise..."_

He'd promised. He'd told Ginny, beautiful, sweet Ginny... a _lie_. He hadn't wanted to remember, and so had pulled away from the memories that caused him so much pain. They hurt. So he had put Ginny in a box, pushing her away in the deepest, darkest corner of his mind where he rarely went and would never have to go. Every time the memories leaked out, he was there, stuffing them back in, refusing to look at them for longer than it took to shove them away again. i He had broken his promise.

_Oh, Ginny!_ Harry cried silently. _I've tried, I've tried so hard to forget you! I've done all I could to leave you behind me. And I promised... I'm so sorry, Ginny_...

He let the memories wash over him, slowly mending his shattered life. The way she could make everyone laugh without really trying... How her smile lit up her entire face... Her fiery temper... Everything that had made Ginny, Ginny... Oh, how he'd loved her! _I miss you so much, Ginny..._

Tears streamed down his face. Through the blurry curtain of his misery he could just make out Ron, looking thoroughly miserable. "I'm sorry, Harry," he whispered. Moisture made his eyes seem unnaturally bright. "I know you... probably didn't want this dragged up again, but I just felt... I miss her too."

_But you didn't promise to remember!_ Harry wanted to say. _You weren't the one who got her out of the house, who saw her die in my arms! And I broke my promise... Oh, Ginny, please forgive me..._

He cried for a while more, tears staining the street he semiconsciously walked through. Then, all at once, a sense of peace came over him, more than he'd felt in weeks. He knew everything would turn out alright, and, though he didn't know where Ginny was, he felt he knew without a doubt that she had forgiven him. And with this reassuring knowledge, Harry let go of the guilt and regret that had always lingered with her memories. He let go, and gave his tired mind the peace it had lacked ever since Voldemort's return, all those years ago. Everything was... fine.

They walked on in silence. Ron's admission had helped them both, even though he hadn't known it. "Thanks, Ron," Harry said quietly.

_Thank you, Ginny. Thank you so, so much..._

_I will remember._


	15. The Edge of A Knife

Chapter 15 — The Edge of a Knife

That night, the five lit a fire in an abandoned house and gathered around it to discuss their next move. It had been a long, dreary day of traveling, but by Harry's reckoning they were just over halfway to Grimmauld Place.

"Walking is getting to be a pain," Ron said irritably, emptying a sharp rock from his shoe. "Literally. Why can't we just Apparate there? It'd save us a lot of work and time."

"I'm sick of Apparating," Harry said. He took a bite of one of the sandwiches Hermione had wisely brought with her. They were already getting stale. "Don't you think we've done enough of that?"

"I'd just like to know how we're going to eat when these things are gone," Neville muttered, picking at a crust. "Are we going to have to live off plants and grass?"

"Moo," said Ron, grinning at his stupid joke.

Everyone ignored him. "We could just ration the sandwiches," Hermione frowned, "and Summon food from somewhere when they run out."

"So who are we going to steal from?" Harry asked angrily. "Because that's what it is, really. I've done and said a lot of things, but I won't become a thief. And anyway, even muggles would notice if food started disappearing all of a sudden." He immediately regretted his snap, but his frayed nerves were not happy at all with their present situation.

"Yes," said Hermione, looking crestfallen. "I suppose they would."

They were silent. Somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped.

Harry put down his sandwich. "Does anybody really remember why exactly we're going to Grimmauld Place? The reason's kind of been lost in everything else that's gone on."

They all looked at each other. "Er," Hermione said.

"Oh... no, not really... I don't think," Ron admitted sheepishly.

"To... rest and recover?" Neville suggested tentatively. Luna was quiet.

"Brilliant." Harry threw up his hands. "Just brilliant. What's the point of going there and wasting time if we _have_ no point? So we've... we've hit another dead end."

The fire hissed and sparked. Luna chose that moment to finally speak. "Didn't you want to see if that Order of the Phoenix thing was still there, or if Professor Snape is hiding out there?"

"That might've been it," Harry said, not quite believing it himself. But even if they had no real reason, he realized that now that Dumbledore had told him that Snape was on their side, his curiosity was strong enough to drive him to Snape's hideout. He wanted to see why the Headmaster trusted him. _We've got to find him._

Hermione had a closed, brooding look on her face. Harry wondered what she was thinking about, but knew she'd tell them in her own time. Every few seconds she'd do something with her fingers, staring at them intently.

Ron stared at her. "Hermione, are you — are you okay?"

She looked up at him, the shuttered look disappearing to be replaced with an air of intense excitement. "I've got an idea, and if I'm right, I'm much better than okay! But Harry, I need you to tell me something."

"What?" Harry asked, feeling slightly confused.

"What exactly did that locket Horcrux look like?"

The question shocked Harry, but he pretended not to mind as he racked his brain for that memory of Dumbledore's... "Um... I think it was big and heavy, gold, with Slytherin's mark, the serpentine 'S' on the front." That sounded about right. "Why do you want to know?"

Her excitement was catching. Harry felt a surge of energy through his body, stimulating his brain. Ron looked about ready to jump up and dance for them. All fatigue was forgotten as they leaned forward, eager to hear Hermione's new revelation.

She was about to answer when her eyes grew wide. She put a shaking hand to her mouth. "Oh, no," she whispered.

"What is it?" Harry asked, frowning.

Hermione shook herself. "Harry. Do you and Ron remember when we had to clean up Grimmauld Place, about two years ago?"

"How could we not!" Ron burst. Harry nodded. _Back when Sirius was still alive..._

"Okay, well, I think I know where one of the Horcruxes is, or was, anyway, because I'm not sure what happened to —"

"Please, Hermione, get to the point!" Ron cut in impatiently. "What's Number Twelve got to do with You-Know-Who's Horcruxes?"

"Oh, very much!" Hermione gushed. "You see, that's where..." Her eyes grew widened again. "Then... I've solved... I think I need to sit down." She sat on a fallen beam of wood, mouth unbecomingly open in shock. "Harry do you still have that — that false locket that you and Dumbledore found?"

"Yeah." Harry pulled the thin chain over his head and handed the locket to Hermione, who yanked it from him with a force that surprised them.

She pulled it open and shook out the scrap of parchment that Harry had read so many times he knew it by heart:

To the Dark Lord

I know I will be dead long before you read this

but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.

I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,

you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B.

But why did Hermione seem so enthralled by the message? Did she have an idea who R.A.B. was? Harry could almost see the wheels turning in her head.

"D'you know something we don't, Hermione?" he asked slowly.

Hermione didn't seem to have heard his question. She stared at the parchment in front of her with a look of rapt disbelief. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Why didn't we see this before?"

She put down the locket and its contents. The faraway look came back into her eyes. "Alright... Harry, Ron, Luna, Neville, you're going to have to pay close attention now, okay? Please."

They all nodded, mystified.

Hermione took a deep breath, then began to speak in a rushing torrent of words and phrases. _If she hadn't told us to listen carefully, I don't think I'd understand her_, Harry thought later. He shut out all outside distractions to listen.

"You'll have to rack your memories to figure this one out for yourselves, and I suppose Neville and Luna weren't there at all, so here it is: I'm almost positive I've figured out where the real locket Horcrux is. Or was. I'm not sure if it's still where it was, but depending on where it was when we were there, the Horcrux just _might_ be in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place."

She waited breathlessly for their reactions. But her speech had been so hurried and jumbled, Harry felt nobody would have any reaction except for some very confused questions. He himself was still trying to think through what she'd said. And sure enough, after a moment:

Ron blinked. "What? Erm... Would you mind repeating that, but a bit slower this time?"

Hermione huffed in exasperation, but repeated what she had said. Harry sat back and allowed himself a minute to digest the unexpected information. "And, how exactly did you riddle that out?" he asked. "Then you know who R.A.B. is, and where — how the Horcrux got there and everything?"

"Yes," said Hermione patiently.

There was a pause. "Then... could you tell us?" Ron suggested.

Hermione sniffed. "I was building suspense, if you must know. It took me ages to get this right. Fine. What would you like to know first? If I just told you everything at once, we'd still be here the day after tomorrow."

Harry sifted through the holes in his knowledge of Voldemort's pieces of soul, finally coming upon what he considered a suitable first question. "Who stole the locket from the cave first? Who's R.A.B.?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I — I think I've changed my mind. Starting from there would make the telling too mixed up, and besides, I'd rather tell you everything in my own way."

"Well then, why'd you ask?" Ron asked exasperatedly.

"Because... Well... Oh, never mind," Hermione snapped finally. "I'll just do it all myself."

Harry sat back to listen as Hermione began.

"I suppose it all began in Grimmauld Place. When we were clearing out that old cabinet, remember?"

Ron and Harry nodded. Hermione quickly continued her story.

"So you remember all that magic junk we had to clear out. We threw lots of little things away... Like that creepy old music box, remember? And... a small locket we tried but couldn't open. Please try and remember."

Harry thought she was using that word far too much, but he did remember. And as he looked through his memories of the Black family's house, a faint, niggling suspicion crept to his mind. He thought he had a good idea where Hermione's train of thought was heading. "D'you think... _that_ was a Horcrux?"

"Yes. I'm almost certain of it."

"_Wicked_," Ron breathed.

Neville and Luna looked similarly impressed. "How in the world did you figure that out, Hermione?" Luna asked, her dreamy tone quickly being overcome by a strong curiosity.

"Well, it took a lot of thinking, and of course I got some very good pieces of proof to help my theory along," said Hermione. "When Harry showed me the locket — We did tell you about all that, didn't we?"

This time Neville and Luna were the ones who nodded.

"Good. When Harry showed me the locket, then, I looked through hundreds of families and names and all sorts of musty old documents that might have included the initials 'R.A.B.', but I didn't have any luck. That is, until I thought to look through purebloods who publicly supported the Dark side and what Voldemort was doing. Then, I found a newspaper article —"

She cut herself off and began frantically rummaging in her robes pockets. "Aha!" she exclaimed at last, triumphantly pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. She spread it out in front of her. "I thought I'd brought it with me. Have a look, all of you, and tell me what you think of it."

They all gathered around the paper. It was a newspaper article of the Daily Prophet, Harry saw, dated some seven- or eighteen years previously. He squinted and pushed up his glasses to read the tiny print. The headline declared: **Death Eater Found Dead By Ministry.**

**Self-proclaimed Death Eater, Regulus Arcturus Black, was found dead outside his London home by Ministry of Magic wizards this morning.**

**At approximately six o'clock in the morning, several passersby claim to have heard loud noises coming from Black's home. Voices seemed to be arguing, then a loud bang could be heard.**

**"I was just watering my garden when I heard loud noises," says Lucille Raine, a long-time resident of the area. "Given the dangerous times we're in, the only thing sensible was to inform the Ministry, which I did immediately."**

**The sole Death Eater in a family of pureblood wizards, Black seemed to have been the victim of a violent attack that left him fatally injured. Though the Ministry has not yet released any details concerning the nature of Black's death, outside sources report that they "are confident that the murder was done by a Death Eater, or maybe even by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself."**

**"Death Eaters have been known to kill each other on You-Know-Who's orders," says Rufus Scrimgeour, Head Auror. "It is not uncommon for You-Know-Who himself to perform an important murder. My department has found several people disposed of by their master. They may have decided they were in too deep, and tried to desert, or perhaps they were frightened of the authorities. Black's body also has the same signs of a sudden, violent death... Nothing has yet been confirmed."**

**Investigation of Regulus Black's death will continue. New information is expected to arrive daily. For updates read England's official Wizarding newspaper, The Daily Prophet.**

The rest of the page was filled by the picture of a young man, who looked like a younger, less handsome version of Sirius Black. He seemed to be in his early twenties, with black hair and startling gray eyes. He was smiling, but there was a look of such intense pain in his eyes that Harry ached for the man he knew must be Sirius's younger brother Regulus.

A chill went up Harry's spine as he reread the article. His gaze lingered on his full name: Regulus Arcturus Black. _That's him. R.A.B..._

Hermione looked around at them, eagerly awaiting their awe and surprise. But Harry couldn't say he really was surprised. It all fit. _A Death Eater who turned back, stole one of Voldemort's most important possessions, and was killed for deserting... It just makes perfect sense. Poor Regulus. Poor Sirius, to have his brother killed just because he discovered the truth! I never imagined I would all be so complex, so... connected. Things I found out about years ago are coming back to play a major role in this race._ He could perfectly remember Sirius telling him a bit about his younger brother, whom he'd called an idiot. _If only you'd known, Sirius..._

Harry stood, mind suddenly made up. "Well then, what are we waiting for? After another couple days, we'll reach Grimmauld Place, and we can grab the Horcrux and get out of there, no problem."

"But Harry, haven't you been listening?" Hermione asked. "_We threw it away_, remember? We threw it away, it could be anywhere by now, miles and miles from here! If it's really gone, we have absolutely no chance of finding it in time."

_I__t could be anywhere._ The reality slammed into Harry as effectively as a boulder; he suddenly couldn't breathe, and had to stagger back to his seat. _We threw it away, remember?_ They had thrown it away, and Harry did remember. He'd thrown it away himself, glancing at it unconcernedly before tossing it into the garbage. He hadn't paid any attention to details. He hadn't had a clue of the importance surrounding the object he'd so carelessly thrown out. And now it was gone, probably for good.

What was the point of going back to he old house now?

Sitting there, Harry admitted to himself the one thing he had never wanted to admit. He was well and truly defeated. There was no way they could track the locket to whatever rubbish heap it had landed in. There was no hope of finding the Slytherin Horcrux if it really had left Number Four. And if they didn't find it, Voldemort would live on, as close to immortal as anyone had ever gotten. He'd continue his path of destruction and completely annihilate anyone who tried to get in his way. He would take over and crush the world with his terrible power, stamping out whatever hope was left.

_Me_, Harry realized. _I'm the world's only hope for survival. But I can't, I can't do it... I'm tired of all this... How can I do anything when there is no hope?_

All of a sudden the defeatist thoughts were beaten away by another voice that cut through his dim reasoning. It was a voice he knew as well as his own, a voice that had once belonged to a girl, a girl with red hair and a dazzling smile.

_There is always hope._

Ginny's voice echoed in his head, and he found he believed it. There _was_ always hope. All he had to do was keep a firm grip on it and never let go, no matter the circumstances. The words were everywhere. Harry saw Hermione looking at him, saying something to him with a concerned look on her face, but all he heard were those four words, repeating themselves until they formed a beating rhythm in his head.

_There is always hope._

"HARRY!"

A shout pulled him back to the present. Harry opened his eyes, which he hadn't realized he'd closed in the first place. He saw Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna all staring at him, and in that one moment, when the hope still lingered inside him, he knew the answer. What had happened to the locket?...

"Kreacher," said Harry, feeling quite detached from the others.

They obviously felt the same way. "What, Harry?" Ron asked uncertainly. He glanced at Hermione uneasily. Harry had a good idea of what they were thinking: _Has Harry finally cracked? Has all the pressure gone to his head at last? What does Kreacher have anything to do with this?_

Harry knew exactly what Ginny would have retorted. He smiled as the rude words flew into his head, then stuffed them aside. He didn't think Ginny's words would help at the moment. Besides, he had a bit of explaining to do, and he didn't need thoughts of Ginny's biting temper distracting him.

He ran through his argument. Unfortunately, he could see several flaws, but that couldn't be helped. His friends would think that he was crazy, that he was relying completely on luck, and maybe he was, a little. _It's not like they don't think that already... Probably think I belong in St. Mungo's by now..._

"If we can count on Kreacher," Harry said slowly, "the Horcrux is sure to still be in the house. If he was up to form on the day we got rid of the locket, we can know exactly where it is."

"'Up to form'?" Hermione repeated. "What do you mean?"

Before Harry could reply, Neville said, "Wait a second... Am I missing something? Who's Kreacher?"

Harry realized that Neville and Luna really had no idea what he was talking about, so without further ado he launched into an explanation as short and to the point as he could manage (which wasn't all that short). He told them about Grimmauld Place, their time there during the summer and vacations, and Kreacher. He told them how he now owned the place, along with the house-elf, the one who had betrayed Sirius to his death.

Finally, to them all, he said, "Kreacher didn't like us cleaning out the house, throwing valuable things away like that. So he snuck some things away, stealing and hiding them before they could be gotten rid of. So if he was watching closely enough, that day we got t the cabinet, an the locket..."

"...He could have stolen and hidden the locket!" finished Neville excitedly. "Which means it could still be in the house!"

Hermione had been thinking silently, but at Neville's words she frowned. "Yes, but there's one—two big problems with that idea, Harry. '_If_ Kreacher took it, it _could_ still be there.' How do we know Kreacher really did it, that this isn't just another dead end? After all, there were loads of other Black heirlooms that would have looked much more valuable to Kreacher. How can we know he just happened to choose the locket?"

Harry's heart sank. This was the first time Hermione had expressed doubt in their search. Was she finally getting fed up? Tired of some wild-goose chase that would most likely end in failure?

"I don't know, Hermione," said Harry wearily. "We can't know what Kreacher did, not until we get back to Grimmauld Place. I'm sorry, but I just don't know. If you're tired of this, you can go home if — if you want. I can finish this alone."

His four friends were deathly silent. Harry could tell they were thinking about his proposal, considering it seriously. His heart dropped another few inches, and he felt an anxious, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The waiting was the worst thing he'd ever had to go through; if Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville decided to go and return to their normal lives, Harry would be alone. Chasing after Voldemort alone, fighting him alone, just... alone.

Harry bit his lip. He knew he couldn't really do it all on his own. The only reason he'd gotten so far was because of his friends. Even before he had learned about Horcruxes and prophecies and everything, Ron and Hermione had been there for him. Always.

Could he go on if they chose to give up?

The dread gnawed away at Harry. His mind went over and over the thought that he would be alone, until he couldn't even remember the possibility of them staying.

He knew this night had been threatening ever since they'd joined him in Godric's Hollow. If there was truly a breaking point, this was it. Their companionship was dangerously close to breaking up. What would they say?

Neville and Luna were the first to look up. "Harry, I don't know about the others, but I'm sticking with you until the end," Neville said earnestly. "We came along, we helped continue this thing, and now we've got to finish it."

Luna nodded in agreement, for once serious and quite down-to-earth. "Yes, Harry," she said, "if you're going on, so am I. The way things have been going so far, anyway, you'll need all the help we can give you."

Harry smiled weakly, but knew it was Ron and Hermione's answers he needed to hear the most. Finally, Hermione looked hard at him.

"Do you honestly think we could abandon you to _him_, Harry? You can't do this by yourself, and I think you know it. I can't speak for Ronald, but if I were to go back now, I — I wouldn't be able to live with it. I am definitely coming with you, whether you like it or not."

Harry grinned half-heartedly. And that left Ron. Harry felt as if the whole evening balanced on the edge of a knife, ready to come crashing down should Ron's answer tip the scale even the slightest bit. If he of all people refused to continue...

At last Ron blinked and shook his head He reached out and, to Harry's surprise, gripped him by the shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. "D'you really we could do that, Harry? After all we've been through together? What kind of friends do you think we are? Like Neville said, we're all in this together."

The room seemed to sigh in relief. They all relaxed. He had chosen to stay. The moment had passed; the balance would hold.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry muttered. "You have no idea what this means to me."

Ron sat back and again reached for his half-eaten sandwich, which had lain forgotten on the makeshift table beside him. "What are friends for," he said cheerily.

The tension was gone. Everyone felt it at once. The balance was restored; they would all go on together, as they'd originally planned.

The others agreed that Harry's idea was their best bet. "If we don't find anything there," said Harry, "I guess we can go —" He stopped. He really had no idea what to do after that. "I guess we'll just have to think about that when it happens," he finished weakly. No one questioned his use of the word "when." After talking for a while longer, one by one they fell asleep. But Harry lay awake long after the rest had drifted off, thinking while he stared up at the stars visible through the holey ceiling.

They awoke the next morning to a brilliant sunrise. Dousing the leftover embers of their fire, they began the day's long walk to Number Four Grimmauld Place...


	16. Return to Grimmauld Place

Chapter 16 — Return to Grimmauld Place

Two uneventful days later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville came upon a familiar sight. The London streets were covered in fog, but the mist couldn't hide the crooked, run-down-looking houses that marked Grimmauld Place. At last, their tired feet came to a halt in the middle of two houses that looked oddly squashed together. There were Eleven and Thirteen, but there was no sign of a Number Twelve.

This didn't seem to worry Harry and his friends as they stood there. But for some reason Harry felt reluctant for them to enter all at once. "Erm, could you guys walk around and see if there's any sign of Death Eaters or the Order or anybody? I'll go inside myself and let you know if it's safe..."

Ron opened his mouth indignantly, but Hermione cut in before he could say anything. "Okay, Harry," she said, giving Ron a look. "I understand. We'll look around and wait until you need our help or want to leave or —" She bit her lip and left the sentence hanging.

They didn't say anything for a minute or two, then Ron looked up and said, in a falsely cheerful voice, "Okay, we'll see you in a bit, Harry." It was clear from the looks on their faces that they were worried about what he might find inside.

Harry grimaced, then turned to face the missing house. _The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place,_ he thought, closing his eyes. When he opened them again a second later, Number Twelve had seemingly materialized between the other two houses.

He looked back over his shoulder. Then he steeled himself and, pushing the door open, disappeared through the gaping darkness of the doorway that now belonged to him.

Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville stood and watched as the door vanished again, taking Harry with it. Hermione sighed. "Well, I suppose we'd better go and see if anybody's spying on us." They separated into two groups and wandered around the opposite corners of the houses.

If they had known how close they were to evil, maybe they wouldn't have split up at all. They weren't aware of the many eyes watching them through grimy windows, one pair of which was scarlet with snakelike pupils.

* * *

Harry stepped into Number Twelve. As soon as he'd let go of the doorknob, the door slammed shut behind him. He was left in the dark entryway. After a second of letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he drew his wand and whispered, "_Lumos._" The tip of his wand immediately gave off a dim but visible light, helping Harry get a small glimpse of the hall he was in.

It had been so long since he'd been there that it took his mind a moment to remember it. He saw the house-elf heads lining the wall, and the covered painting of Mrs. Black at the end of the hall. Harry wondered whether she would wake up and start screeching at him, even though he was the owner of the house.

He walked quietly toward the end of the hall, looking around, drinking everything in. Some memories of the place hurt, like most of the ones involving Sirius. Harry had never wanted to return here for just this reason, but knew it was necessary to finish their search. He got past the portrait and went through the kitchen, barely looking round as he slid across the dusty floor. The Order of the Phoenix had obviously never come back after Dumbledore's death last year. Perhaps they were afraid that, with their leader gone, Voldemort might have found out where the headquarters was.

The entire house seemed deserted, but then, Harry had only gone through the first floor. There was still another floor to search. As Harry climbed the steps and made his way across the corridor, however, he saw a light on under one of the doors. Then he heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks, something completely out of place in the musty old building.

Voices.

At least two voices, talking to each other in the lit room. Harry crept down the passage and stopped just outside the door, wand raised in case the owner of one of the voices happened to come out. Both voices sounded very familiar; one was a harsh, oily whisper, and the other a cold drawl.

But still Harry couldn't quite place them. He listened at the door, trying to make out some of their conversation. A second later he jumped back as he heard the oily voice become louder, angrier. "What do you think I've been trying to do all this time, Draco? If you have any useful ideas, please, share them!" A mutter was the only answer he received, but the first voice's words had been all Harry needed for recognition to come back with a flash.

_Snape and Malfoy! They are here... but why? Was Dumbledore right? I have to know..._

He debated bursting in on them, or Apparating inside to question them. While he thought, their voices grew louder and louder. Harry, assuming the noise would be enough to drown out any other sounds, shifted his feet the tiniest bit across the floor.

Immediately there was silence inside the room. Snape whispered something to Malfoy. Somebody crept to the door; Harry could sense the presence of another person listening intently for more noise to betray him. Harry froze, not even daring to breathe while the person on the other side stood there.

After a minute, the other presence seemed to move away, and Harry relaxed, shuffling closer to the door and pressing his ear against it. He couldn't hear anything.

The telltale creak of the old door's hinges should have warned Harry that it was about to be opened, but he wasn't listening for it. There was a pause. Harry touched the wood of the door. There was a rustle of movement behind the door. Then...

_Scrape._

The next moment, he was flung facedown onto the floor as his support suddenly vanished. The door had been thrown open. Harry began to push himself up... then froze when he felt the cold tip of a wand digging into the back of his neck.

He scowled at the floor. That had been a dirty trick. The man on the other side of the door had pretended to move away, then had pulled open the door and caught Harry completely off his guard. He must have even gotten his wand ready to trap Harry when he fell, the rat!

Harry heard Malfoy's voice in front and above him. "Who is it?"

Snape held his wand close to Harry's neck as he barked, "Who are you? ...And which side are you on?"

Harry thought this was a very peculiar question, as he could have asked Snape the same thing. i Whose side are you really on/i But, knowing he wasn't in the position to ask, he said dully, "What side d'you want me to be on?"

The wand drew retreated so quickly it was as though Snape had simply disappeared. Apparently Harry's voice had been recognized. He tentatively rose up on his hands, then, when he wasn't stopped, he pushed himself all the way up to a sitting position. His glasses had acquired a thin layer of dirt from the floor; to see Snape, Malfoy, and the room they were in, he was forced to wipe the lenses on his robes. When he was finished, he pushed them up his nose and blinked as the world came back into focus.

They were in a large, dusty room that Harry supposed was once used as a storage room, since there was almost nothing inside. The floorboards were covered in dirt and other unpleasant things Harry dared not think about. To the left of the door, in the far corner of the room, there was an old wooden ladder that seemed to reach up to a loft of some kind.

Harry turned his attention from the room to its occupants. Severus Snape had never looked like a particularly healthy man, but the past two-and-a-half months had not helped. His sallow skin was still very pale, but now stretched impossibly tight over high cheekbones. He was unnaturally thin, and his billowing black robes were patched and faded.

But the long days of being on the run had taken their greatest toll on Draco Malfoy. The normally smug, slick teenager had been reduced to a shadow of his former self. His white-blond hair, always so clean and slicked back, was a tangled, dirty mess. His eyes had a scared, wild look to them. This new, slightly humbled Malfoy felt strange to Harry. Knowing what he was used to, Harry almost felt a bit sorry for him. _Almost._ He still couldn't forgive him for what he had tried to do...

Harry stood up. Snape's eyes followed his every move. Malfoy seemed listless and practically unaware of Harry's presence in the room, except when Harry reached down for his wand, which had fallen out of his hand when he fell. Malfoy's eyes suddenly seemed to gleam with an inner light, as if he recognized Harry and was letting him know that he was still the enemy. Then it was gone, and he turned away from the others.

Harry and Snape faced each other for a few minutes, staring at each other, not talking or moving. A thousand thoughts flashed through Harry's head at once. _Does he know why I'm here? What does he think I know? ...Has he really been on our side all this time?_ He had forgotten about Malfoy, and thus hadn't included him in his plans. Would the Death Eater boy try to stop Harry from getting the information he wanted? Harry wondered whether he really was a Death Eater.

Snape was steadily holding his gaze, but Harry couldn't help but notice that the hand that held Snape's wand was shaking.

"What — why — what are you doing here, Potter?" Snape finally managed to say angrily, but Harry could tell he had been shaken by his appearance. Had he been expecting Death Eaters, or maybe Voldemort himself? Or, if Dumbledore had been wrong... the Order of the Phoenix?

"I'm —" Harry began, but stopped in the middle of his sentence. What should he say? Snape obviously wasn't going to kill him on the spot, no matter whose side he was on. But then what would he do when Harry asked him the questions that needed answering most?

He decided to just blurt out whatever first came to his mind. He steeled himself, then said, "I think a better question would be, what are _you_ doing here, Pro — Snape? You killed the Order's leader, and now you come running right to their headquarters? Shouldn't you be back with Voldemort?" Calling Snape 'Professor' had somehow seemed inappropriate to Harry. After all, he really wasn't a teacher anymore.

Snape remained impassive, but the faintest trace of a frown had appeared on his face. He stared in a calculating way at Harry; he seemed to be weighing the true meaning behind his questions. For a moment everyone was silent. Harry had a funny feeling that the scene was familiar. It was just like in the Shrieking Shack, four years ago, except this time it was Harry in Snape's position.

Then Snape sighed and replaced his wand inside his robes pocket. "Potter, now is really not the best time for —"

"Answer my question, please," Harry said loudly. He was slightly surprised at his own daring, cutting Snape off like that. A year ago, he never would have thought to do such an insolent thing to the Potions master. But then, Harry reminded himself, times had changed.

"Don't you understand, stupid boy?" Snape snapped. "This house is being watched, you took enough of a risk coming here, now they'll come and..."

Harry's heart stopped. The house was being watched. And he had left Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville out there to fend off Death Eaters and who knew what else. _I'm such a fool... Of course Voldemort would be watching the house..._

He shook off his worries and asked again, "Why are you here?"

Snape sighed heavily. For a moment he lost his menacing air and seemed to age before Harry's eyes. "You're not going to give it up, no matter what I say, are you, Potter?"

Harry shook his head, the picture of stubbornness. Inside, he was quivering with apprehension over what Snape would say next.

Snape looked at him again, then abruptly straightened and swept across the room. Harry's eyes followed him as he reached the far left corner of the wall. The tall man drew his wand and tapped a section of paneling about six inches above his head.

The wall seemed to open up, revealing a rope ladder climbing up into a loft of some kind. Snape, being so tall, ignored the ladder and reached into the dark space. He groped about for a minute, then pulled out a small silver basin that Harry immediately recognized as a Pensieve. It was slightly smaller than the one in Dumbledore's office, and had different inscriptions around the brim, but was a Pensieve nonetheless.

Snape came back to Harry and, conjuring up a short table from midair, placed the Pensieve on top. He motioned for Harry to come closer as he swished the basin's contents around.

"I assume you are quite familiar with these, Potter?" Snape asked, a slight sneer on his face. Harry remembered his dive into the Pensieve during one of their disastrous Occlumency lessons two years ago. The humiliating scene he had witnessed had made Snape furious with him. Harry swallowed and, approaching the table, nodded.

"I thought so," Snape said softly, staring at Harry with narrowed eyes. It was obvious that they were both remembering the same thing.

The former Potions master looked down, intently studying the silvery memories before him. At last, he took out his wand again and regarded Harry thoughtfully. "I have something to show you, Potter. If you're really as stubborn and hard-headed as you seem, you'll have to see this before I tell you anything else. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry softly. He wasn't sure if he trusted Snape at all, but if he wanted to know the truth, it seemed he had to. At least long enough to get through this memory, whatever Snape had deemed important enough to show him without further explanation. "Yes, I understand."

Snape looked at him with that same calculating look, then prodded the glowing depths of the Pensieve with his wand. "Come on, then, I haven't got all day. _Now._"

He grabbed Harry's collar, and pulled him into the Pensieve without a moment's hesitation. Harry struggled at first, then allowed himself to be drawn into Snape's memory. They entered headfirst, were falling, falling, leaving Malfoy in the empty room...

Falling through the hundreds of memories...

Then they landed, hard floor once again beneath their feet. Harry was released from the death-grip Snape had on his shirt, and they were inside the memory. Harry wasn't sure where they were, as his glasses had been knocked off in Snape's vehemence. But when he had replaced them and was able to look around properly, he gasped in disbelief.


	17. Redemption

Chapter 17 — Redemption

They had landed in a dark, dingy, forbidding-looking corridor. Harry immediately recognized the building as the Hog's Head, the inn in Hogsmeade where he had first started Dumbledore's Army. It had also been where Sibyll Patricia Trelawney had made the prophecy that had changed Harry's life forever. That had been the reason for his gasp; he had a feeling he knew why they were here.

He looked around. The hallway was long and extended far into the darkness. There were at least eight rooms lining the wall in front of Harry and Snape. Behind them, a long banister separated the corridor from a staircase that led down into the dimly-lit pub.

Harry figured out when they were as soon as he faced forward. Kneeling by one of the closed doors was a much younger Severus Snape than the one who stood behind Harry. He was obviously listening at the keyhole to whomever was speaking inside.

Harry drew closer to the young man, heart beating furiously. He already knew what had happened here; what was the point of bringing him to this particular memory? Just in case he'd missed something, Harry knelt down right next to the past Snape, pricking his ears to hear what he was hearing.

The adult Snape stood silently with his back against the banister, waiting... for what? There was no expression on his face. It was as if a stone mask had suddenly dropped over his eyes and mouth, carefully hiding his feelings from the outside world.

Harry turned back to the door and pressed his ear against the wood. The younger Snape was completely unaware of his presence, and didn't budge an inch. Harry sat there, struggling to hear...

And then he suddenly could. A chair was being scraped across the floor, then voices came floating clearly through the door. Harry easily recognized the first speaker as Dumbledore, so he listened intently.

"Well, thank you for that very — er — interesting account, Sibyll. I think our interview is over, now; I shall contact you as soon as possible to let you know if you've earned the post —"

Another voice, this time the falsely ethereal tones of Sibyll Trelawney. "Oh, so soon? Well thank you so much for your time, Albus, it has been a very enlightening experience."

"Yes, quite," said Dumbledore in a slightly amused voice. "I'll send you an owl... Farewell, my dear, and, er, I hope you see great things ahead in your future."

Harry snorted. Trelawney's voice answered, "Oh, I do in —" There was suddenly a loud choking noise, cutting off her sentence. Harry breathed in sharply. _This is it..._ He could just picture the Divination teacher stiffening, her voice growing deeper, huskier...

"Sibyll, are you alright?" Dumbledore asked concernedly.

Then it came: "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not..._"

Snape shifted. Harry heard someone's footsteps on the staircase, pounding up to the second floor... This must have been when Snape was caught... But no... The prophecy continued, and Snape was still there, still listening at the keyhole.

"_...And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power... to vanquish the Dark Lord... will be born as the seventh month dies..._"

There was a hush inside the room. Then Dumbledore said, in a strangled voice, "What — excuse me... Sibyll? What was that?"

Trelawney was back to normal as she replied, "What? I said nothing, dear Headmaster, nothing at all of importance. I was simply commenting on what I see for my future, you know —"

"Are you sure that is — all you said?" Dumbledore asked cautiously.

"But of course," Trelawney said, sounding somewhat taken aback. Then, in a haughty voice, "I'm sure I know what comes out of my own mouth, Headmaster. What on earth did you think I said?"

There was a pause. Snape began to back away from the door, never taking his eyes off it. Harry felt very confused. Everything he'd heard had implied that Snape had been caught in the middle of the prophecy. Why was he still here? Was this —

"Oy! What're you doin' up there?"

A deep, angry voice, thrown impressively, sounded loudly and suddenly just behind them. Harry, Snape, and the past Snape all spun around at once to see the source of the noise. A tall, burly man stood at the top of the steps, glaring down at Snape. He had thin gray hair, and lines crisscrossed his face, but his powerfully built body defied all signs of age. Harry assumed him to be a security person, perhaps a bouncer, or maybe just one of the inn's very few guests. Whoever he was, he was glaring at Snape so fiercely, Harry was glad that he couldn't be seen.

"What're you doin' there? I don't recall seein' you round here. That ain't your room, is it?" He squinted at the cheap nameplate stuck to the door. "No, it's belongin' to a Miss Trelawney. What you been doin' at her door?"

The guilty, flushed look on Snape's face revealed everything. The big man scowled. "Been eavesdroppin', have you? We'll just see what Sibyll Trelawney has to say about that!" And in one swift, decisive motion, he had Snape by the collar and was knocking loudly on the door. Without waiting for an invitation, he tightened his grip on Snape and push his way through the door into the room.

Harry, the man, and the two Snapes went inside to see a very flustered-looking Albus Dumbledore sitting across a table from a serene Trelawney.

"Oh," the heavyset man said when he spotted Dumbledore. "Sorry, beggin' your pardon, sir, I hope I wasn't interruptin' anything..."

"No, no," Dumbledore sighed. "No. Nothing at all, really. Not anymore. What is it?"

"Caught this fellow" — he shook Snape by the robes — "skulkin' round the door, sir, tryin' to listen in on you and Miss Trelawney. Didn't know what you'd like me to do with him, sir. He looks a right nasty piece of work."

Dumbledore stared at Snape, who avoided his gaze. "Severus...?" the Headmaster whispered. "What are you —" Then a dark expression fell over his face, as if he'd just had a dreadful thought. He looked away.

"You know this villain, then?" the man asked, still holding Snape at least six inches off the ground. "Do you want me to leave him with you, or put him outta here for you?"

Dumbledore now had a look of utmost pain and betrayal on his face as he turned back to stare at Snape. "Take him away from here, please. Sibyll and I have some matters to discuss, and I do not wish to be interrupted again."

_Interrupted,_ Harry thought, in a daze as he followed the man and both Snapes downstairs. _So that's why Trelawney said that. Dumbledore said their interview was interrupted; she never had any idea about her prophecy... I should've thought of that long ago, she's never been interrupted during one of her premonitions..._

_But why didn't he tell Voldemort everything?_

They reached the door leading outside, and the man finally let go of Snape. More accurately, he drop-kicked him to the pavement. "There you go, you... Get outta here!"

The door slammed shut behind him. Snape slowly stood and brushed himself off, cringing. Harry glanced at the present-day Snape. He hadn't spoken a word throughout the entire memory, and it seemed as though all the important parts of it had been finished...

Or perhaps not. Memory Snape had swept off through the street, and Snape grabbed Harry by the shoulder, pulling him along after him.

Memory Snape stopped and darted into a dark alley. Harry and Snape followed him. Harry saw that he was pacing around, looking pale as a ghost, as if part of the prophecy had frightened him. But how could it have?

Then he turned. Snape finally spoke. "I'm — he's going to Apparate now, so hold on, Potter. This will not be a very pleasant experience."

Harry's stomach lurched. It was bad enough Apparating yourself — what would it be like to be dragged along? He braced himself...

Memory Snape spun around and disappeared. Harry immediately felt a tugging feeling throughout his whole body. At first he resisted it, then felt Snape's quickly fading hand on his shoulder. "Don't fight it," he whispered. Then he was gone.

Harry swallowed and let go of his instinct to fight. Instantly, he felt as though he were being sucked through a straw. It was a most unpleasant feeling; he was being stretched and twisted every which way, like a piece of gum... He couldn't breathe...

And then it was over. He staggered over the grass he'd landed on and looked around. They were in a large, empty field. The darkness made their solitude seem eerie. Harry didn't recognize the surrounding buildings, but he did recognize the man standing right in front of Memory Snape. In spite of the hood and dark cape, Harry knew exactly who he was.

Scarlet eyes. Chalky white face. Snake-like nose with slits for nostrils.

_Voldemort._

Memory Snape bowed stiffly before his master, whose cruel smile only grew wider. "Why, hello, Severus. Fancy seeing you here."

"My lord."

"You have something for me, I presume? I know you wouldn't dare show your face here if you didn't..."

"Yes, my lord."

"Excellent." Voldemort was obviously in a very good mood. Harry wondered what exactly had put him in such a mood. "Let's hear it, then."

Snape bowed again. "My lord. You were not mistaken. They were there, both of them."

"I'm never mistaken, Severus," Voldemort said lazily. "You should know that by now."

Memory Snape swallowed. "Yes... I mean, no, I... Yes, my lord."

"So?"

"They — she was there for a job interview with Dumbledore, most likely some Divination garbage... Very short-staffed at the moment... He didn't really give anything away, but she said something I think you'll find very interesting."

Voldemort looked at Snape hard. "And what was that?"

And Snape proceeded to tell Voldemort about Trelawney's prophecy. But Harry couldn't help but notice he left out two key parts: "...And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives..."

For some reason, Snape seemed to want to keep these parts to himself, and Voldemort never questioned his complete honesty. He listened eagerly. It had obviously been a piece of information for which he had been waiting a very long time, and he never thought to doubt Snape.

Snape came to the end, and after ordering him to repeat it, Voldemort looked off into the distance thoughtfully, over Snape's shoulder. Harry had the startling feeling that Voldemort could see them; but that was rubbish. They couldn't be seen when they weren't really there.

Voldemort came out of his reverie and smiled at Snape. The effect this had on his face was ghastly. "Thank you so much, Severus. You haven't any idea how much you've just told me. Your services will be rewarded." He turned and began to move away.

For some reason, Snape's expression darkened at Voldemort's last words. But when Voldemort turned back to him, all signs of — anger? fear? — instantly disappeared to be replaced by a blank, almost expressionless look.

"Well done," the Dark Lord said. "I look forward to another report soon. You may go now."

The memory Snape bowed again, then turned and began striding in the opposite direction without looking back. Voldemort swirled in a circle and Disapparated.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see the present-day Snape at his back. "That's enough."

Harry was then wrenched backwards and found himself on the floor of Grimmauld Place, in front of the Pensieve's little table. Malfoy was staring at him with his eyes narrowed. He looked as if he were about to ask a question, but stopped himself before the words could escape. He sullenly retreated back into his corner. Harry wondered suddenly whether someone outside the Pensieve could see the same things the person inside had seen. Did Malfoy know what memory they'd witnessed?

"So?" Snape's oily voice spoke behind Harry. Harry turned around. "What do you think now, Potter? Still insist I bow to the Dark Lord's every whim? Still think I'm the mortal enemy of the Order? If you do, you're a greater fool than I thought."

Harry's pride immediately bristled with indignation, but he resisted the temptation to shoot a retort right back. He needed answers from Snape, and going at his throat would not put him in a volunteering mood. "Professor..." he began, much more politely than he thought necessary. But the name stuck in his mouth; it no longer sounded appropriate for Snape. He tried again. "Snape... Why did you... What made you do that?" he finally blurted. "You still told him about the prophecy... but..." He frowned, feeling overwhelmed.

Snape sighed and shook back his black hair. "I don't —" He stopped. "How much do you know about Death Eaters, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. What was he getting at?

"Well... When a Death Eater is first initiated, he is given a task to perform for the Dark Lord — a sort of test, if you will. It is usually eliminating an enemy of his, or... other things. Suffice it to say I failed my test. Miserably. And so, as punishment, the Dark Lord had someone murdered. Someone — someone very close to me. I suppose your little friends Weasley and Granger tried to find out everything about my back ground after... last year?"

Harry nodded, intrigued by this unexpected turn of events.

"Well, then, you'd know about my mother, Eileen. The Dark Lord had her killed, as punishment for my so-called 'disloyalty.' That turned me away from the appeal of his service, although once made a Death Eater, you can't back out. All I cared about then was seeing him defeated. I taught myself an advanced form of Occlumency, so I was able to disguise my true intentions from him, even as I pretended to serve him whole-heartedly. That is how I was able to be a sort of double agent for Dumbledore; the Dark Lord never had any idea I wasn't completely on his side."

Harry digested this new information. Snape fell silent for a moment, apparently reminiscing. Malfoy stood in the corner, holding his left arm and looking back and forth between Harry and Snape.

Harry thought of something. He frowned and turned back to Snape. "Snape — what did you tell Dumbledore, to get on his side? What was your reason for going back after my mum and dad's deaths?" _Surely not just remorse for their deaths? After all, you never gave a damn about my parents before... especially my dad..._

Snape stared impassively at him. "What — what exactly do you remember about that night, Potter? Do you recall anything?" he asked carefully.

Harry scowled. He knew perfectly well what he remembered. At a time like this, what kind of a question was that? But he answered, deciding to humor Snape, at least for the moment. "Not all that much. I was only one, after all... But I do remember my dad, telling Mum to escape with me..." He picked his brain, going through the shred of memory that the dementors had conjured up, four years earlier. "Then my mum begging Voldemort to let me live... Green light... It's kind of hard," he explained. "I really can't see any of it, because there was this thick, white fog over —"

_Fog._ Another memory suddenly floated to the surface of his mind: _"As you might have noticed," said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk, "that memory has been tampered with."_

_"Tampered with?" repeated Harry, sitting back down too._

_"Certainly," said Dumbledore. "Professor Slughorn has meddled with his own recollections."_

_"But why would he do that?"_

_"Because, I think, he is ashamed of what he remembers," said Dumbledore. "He has tried to rework the memory to show himself in a better light, obliterating those parts which he does not wish me to see. It is, as you will have noticed, very crudely done, and that is all to the good, for it shows that the true memory is still there beneath the alterations."_

The same white fog covered Harry's memories of the night his parents were murdered. Why hadn't he realized that sooner? Someone had tampered with his memories, all those years ago.

Harry looked up at Snape. "Someone messed with my memory. I noticed it for the first time, just now... Did you know about that? D'you know — d'you know who did it?"

"Yes," Snape muttered. "Yes, I do know." He turned away from Harry for a moment, staring blankly at the wall, then turned back to look Harry squarely in the eye. "It was me."


	18. The Truth

Chapter 18 — The Truth

A/N: Before the reviews start coming in, yes, I'm aware that Jo has crushed the theory in this chapter, but as I'd already written it by then, I couldn't do anything about it. And so here is the first (and hopefully only) diversion from the true plot of Book 7. Sorry!

Harry stared at Snape. "What —?" His first reaction was confusion. Whyever would Snape want to tamper with his memories? Did he have something to hide? Then he felt angry. i He's got no right to mess with my head! It's my memory, what's he doing changing them/i

"What'd you do that for!" Harry exploded. "It was my memory, who gave you the right to change it? It was my mum and dad who were killed, I deserve to know what really happened!"

Snape's face went even paler than usual. "I had to, Potter!" he shouted. Then, as if aware of his volume, he lowered his voice and said harshly, "I had no choice! That memory contains information the Dark Lord would willingly kill for... If he ever tried to use Legilimency upon you, with that memory, he would discover the truth about me... He would have had yet another weapon to use against the Order!"

Something Snape had just said stuck out, and didn't seem to fit in with everything Harry had been told about that night. Harry paused. _"If he ever tried to use Legilimency upon you, with that memory, he would discover the truth about me..."_

But what did Snape have to do with the events of that night? "What are you saying... Were you _there,_ Snape?" he asked incredulously.

Snape reached for his wand and slowly walked toward Harry, who automatically took a few steps back. "Stop cringing away like that, Potter," Snape snapped. "I'm not going to hex you, if you're worried about that. If you want to get your memory back, I have to unlock it."

"Well, why can't I just do it?" said Harry nervously, eyeing Snape's wand.

"Only the one who locked the memory in can unlock it again. Come on, then. Stay still!"

Harry forced himself to relax. "I have to put it into the Pensieve first," Snape warned. "I don't suppose you've ever had a memory extracted from you before..."

"No, I haven't," said Harry, feeling even worse. "You know what, it's really not all that —" But before he could say he'd changed his mind, Snape put his wand to Harry's right temple and muttered something. The next thing Harry knew, his brain felt like it was being pulled out through his forehead. There was a violent jerking feeling between his eyes... He was going to be sick... and then it was all over. Harry had the distinct feeling that his head was just a bit emptier now. He looked over at Snape, who had a silvery strand of memory clinging to the tip of his wand.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it, Potter?" Snape asked, but Harry could detect a hint of scorn in his voice. He watched as Snape dropped the memory into the silver basin, which glowed briefly. The former Potions master then waved his wand three times over the glittering basin and said, "_Deut Obfirmo!_" There was another glow of light, this time followed by something that sounded like a small, far-off explosion.

Snape gestured to the Pensieve. "I suppose you'd like to see the memory before it's replaced? It will be much easier that way."

Harry nodded, gritted his teeth, and let himself be pulled headfirst back into the basin of memories. He was vaguely aware of Snape entering at the same time... And then they'd landed.

Harry looked around. They were inside a room in a small house that Harry recognized as his parents' old home in Godric's Hollow. _Wait — how did I remember that?_ he wondered, startled. The memory was obviously beginning to come back. But did he really want to know?

The room had no furniture or decorations except for a small throw rug on the floor, a baby's crib, and a chair by the crib. And on the chair sat Harry's mother, Lily Evans Potter.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. It was his mother. Still alive, looking beautiful and radiant as she sat next to the crib. Harry approached the crib... and there he was. Himself, as a one-year-old baby. He was much smaller, of course — at that thought Harry whacked himself for stating the obvious — but already with a thick mane of the black hair he'd inherited from his father. But there were two distinct differences between Harry, and... well... Harry. The one-year-old had no glasses, and definitely no scar.

Harry tore his gaze from his younger self. He knew how he looked; what was he wasting time staring at a mirror image for? He turned his attention to Lily instead.

She had a stern-looking face, but it managed to be soft and loving at the same time. Her long red hair reminded Harry very much of Ginny, though it was slightly lighter in color. And her eyes... They really were just like his. Bright green, almond-shaped eyes. _Or mine are just like hers,_ he corrected himself, unable to look away from her face. This was his mother...

He reached out to touch her face, knowing he couldn't. His hand passed right through. "I love you," he whispered.

And then James Potter came into the room. Tears welled inside Harry's eyes. He wanted to get out of this place, this memory... It hurt... But he knew that this was an important thing to see. He had to see it through.

"How's our Harry?" cooed James, picking Harry up, out of the crib. He grinned and kissed his baby son, then glanced over at Lily. "Has anything — happened?" he murmured. "Are you two alright?"

"We're fine," Lily assured him quietly. "We'll be fine, as long as he doesn't find us. But it looks like it'll be another quiet night. Don't you want a rest, James?"

"No. No, we can't afford for me to rest... It's too dangerous out there Lily, and I — I'm afraid he might come. I've been on edge ever since we moved here... Are you sure Peter's okay? I have a very bad feeling about tonight... I think I'll call Sirius, ask him to check up on Peter for us... just in case..."

"Peter wouldn't —"

"No, but I just—I wish I hadn't let Sirius talk me into making Peter our Secret-Keeper." James pulled a small hand mirror out of his robes pocket. Harry turned cold as he recognized it as the exact double of his own two-way mirror. "I've got a bad feeling about this night," James muttered, glancing out the window. He breathed on the mirror in his hand and whispered, "_Sirius Black._"

Harry moved behind James and looked over his father's shoulder. Sirius Black's face presently materialized in the glass, looking up at James. Harry's stomach lurched to see his godfather's face, young, mostly relaxed, and healthy as he'd never been again after Azkaban. He also looked as if he'd just gotten out of bed.

"James? What is it? Are Lily and Harry alright?" Sirius asked urgently, looking positively alarmed at his friend's appearance.

"We're fine," answered James. "Listen, Sirius, I know I said I wouldn't call you except in the case of an emergency, but... Could you check up on Peter for us? We're getting kind of worried... And I've never felt so tense, so... open to everything. Unprotected. I'd like nothing better right now than for you to tell me he's locked away at home. Could you do that, Padfoot? Please."

Sirius visibly relaxed at the use of his old nickname. He grinned slightly. "Sure thing, Prongs. I'll let you know right away. I haven't felt quite right all day, either... There's a bad feeling in the air today. I don't know... Give my love to Harry and Lily, will you?"

"Yeah, I will. And Sirius? Thanks for this, mate."

"Hey, like I said, no problem. What are friends for, right? Be safe, all three of you. God knows we could all use a bit more safety these days. I'll talk to you in a bit."

"Okay, Sirius. I'll be seeing you."

"Bye." Sirius's face vanished from the glass, which gradually lost its fogginess and became a normal mirror once more.

James sighed and dropped the mirror back into his pocket. "Well, I suppose that's the best we can do. I hope he's okay... Sounded a bit ragged to me..."

"He'll be fine," Lily said. She stood up and embraced her husband reassuringly. He hugged her tightly back. "We'll be fine. He hasn't found us up to now, has he? What's to say he'll find us tonight?"

"Yes, I guess I was just being —" James suddenly broke off in the middle of his sentence and quickly stepped away from Lily and toward the open window. He stared outside. "That's funny. I could've sworn I saw some —"

This time he was interrupted by a frantic knocking at the door downstairs. "That can't be him," Lily murmured, looking frightened. "It couldn't, he wouldn't make so much noise, he'd get the muggles looking... But who else would be wandering around the streets at this hour?"

"Stay here," James commanded. He raced down to the first floor. The door could be heard opening. James's voice drifted up through the ceiling. "Who — what the hell are you doing here? It's..."

Two voices quieted to an inaudible whisper. Harry shifted back and forth on his feet nervously. Who was it down there? Obviously not Voldemort, or James would be dead already...

James appeared at the door again. "We've got a guest, Lily," he said, not looking at all happy about it. He stepped back to allow another man to come inside the room. A tall, pale form entered the doorway...

"Snape!" both Harry and Lily gasped at the same time, although Lily's was the only voice heard. "What on earth are you doing here, on this of all nights? James, why did you let him in? You know he's a Death Eater, he reports to _him_, how could you just let him come waltzing in here..."

"Yes, Lily," James said patiently. "But Snape here says he has some important information for us, and the way he came running through the rain to get to us, I expect he's not lying. Well, Snape, what have you got to say for yourself?"

Snape miserably pushed his soaking hair out of his face and stared at them. He seemed nervous and afraid of some unseen threat. "The Dark Lord," he gasped. "He's coming. Now. He'd just left his house when I came here, he'll be arriving any second! You have to get out of here now! He's come for Harry, and you two are just in his way, he'll try to eliminate all three of you! You've got to —"

There was a crashing sound downstairs. Everyone froze. Snape spun around to face the stairs. After a moment he spun back around, terror in his eyes. "He's here! Get out, get out, NOW!"

With a frantic speed, Lily began gathering clothes and things that belonged to Harry. "James, can you get Harry ready to go?" she whispered calmly.

"Come on, Harry. It's time to go," James said to his son, pulling him out of his crib. The baby Harry gurgled, happily oblivious to the danger he was in.

But they were too late. Footsteps began coming up the steps, menacingly quiet and slow. James frantically dug around in a trapdoor he'd uncovered beneath the rug. After a second he triumphantly drew out a cloak that shimmered and seemed only half there. _The invisibility cloak_, Harry thought, startled.

James looked at Snape. "Is it true? What you said downstairs?"

Snape nodded, then looked bewildered as James shoved the invisibility cloak into his arms. "Here. Use it, to keep out of his sight, then please bring it to Dumbledore for me. He'll know what to do with it. And if anything should happen to us — let the Order know. I assume you know about it? Please. Just go, now! Before he comes and sees you."

Snape threw the cloak over his head and vanished just before a tall, hooded man rounded the corner and came into view of the doorway. Lily, James, teenage Harry, and the older Snape all stared at him. A flat, snakelike nose and two scarlet eyes were just visible in the shadowed face.

In a blur of action, James raced into the hallway and slammed and locked the door behind him. Lily sat, trembling, on the chair, holding baby Harry tightly as they waited...

There was a yell of anger. The electric sound of spells whizzing by their intended targets. Then a horribly cold voice saying, "_Avada Kedavra._" A body outside hit the floor, and Harry's eyes flooded with tears as he realized just whose it had been. _Goodbye..._

As Lord Voldemort smashed open the door and came through, Harry heard the faint swish of robes as the invisible Snape fled, passing right by Voldemort. _So is all this next part new to him?_

Voldemort looked at Lily, who had put Harry down, and she shrank back. Harry could tell that she knew exactly what he had come for. "No..." she whispered, horror-struck, as the hooded man took one slow, unhurried step into the room. "No, not Harry, please, not Harry!"

He took two more steps, each a bit quicker than the previous one. "Stand aside, you silly girl," he said coldly. "If you value your life, step away from the boy... stand aside, now..."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —" she pleaded. She refused to stand aside, however, and although Harry knew how it would end, he felt a surge of pride, watching his mother. _Thanks, Mum. You have no idea just how much good that did..._

Voldemort advanced another few steps. He pushed Lily away and strode to baby Harry, looking down at him. The expression on his twisted face was unreadable as he stared at the boy prophesied to overthrow him. Harry's teeth clenched and he struggled to stay in control. _There's nothing you can do,_ he reminded himself. _You can't change a memory... But what I wouldn't give for one of those smashed Time Turners._ Watching this felt horrible, especially since he couldn't do anything about the ending.

Lily stepped in front of Voldemort, wand forgotten in the desperation of trying to save her child. "Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy..." She was almost crying, but nothing he said or did would make her abandon Harry to certain death.

Harry could tell Voldemort was getting impatient. He put up with a few more minutes of begging, then smiled, pointed his wand, and killed her. Her body hit the ground with a thump right at Harry's feet. Glassy green eyes stared up at him. He fought the urge to throw up. _Oh God, I can't do this... I can't do this..._

Snape's hand gripped his shoulder from behind in a tight, uncomfortable way. Harry looked back and saw Snape's face, white as a ghost's, as he stared at the scene unfolding before them.

Voldemort spun to face baby Harry, sitting on the chair. He had begun to cry, but now he gazed at Voldemort with solemn green eyes. The two stared at each other for a moment, boy and man, child and monster. And then the Dark Lord began to laugh. It was a high, cold laugh, one Harry had heard in many of his nightmares.

He laughed and laughed, certain that victory over the prophecy was close at hand. Then he stopped and lifted his wand, smiling a chilling smile that didn't reach his scarlet eyes. He opened his mouth and, caught up in the thrill of the moment, shouted the words.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

When the jet of green light reached Harry's forehead, the spell inexplicably rebounded and headed toward Voldemort. An explosion ripped through the room, and Harry was momentarily blinded by the intense light and heat that flared all around them. But he wasn't hurt by the beams of wood and debris that fell from the destroyed house, and Harry was amazed to see that the few pieces of falling house that did hit him and Snape just fell through them as if they weren't even there. _Well, we're not, really,_ Harry reminded himself. _We're not really in Godric's Hollow, it's just like we're looking at something on a television set. Granted_, he thought as a flaming timber rushed past his head, _it's a very realistic television..._

His brain was babbling while the little house fell in around them, and Harry realized he was still in shock. _I knew about — most of — this stuff already, it shouldn't be so big of a deal..._

But it was. The truth had a greater twist than he could have ever imagined, and he had a feeling it wasn't over yet. The dust and smoke settled around them, and finally Harry could see around them.

The small building had been totally destroyed. All that remained of it was a smoldering pile of rubble. Not even the original structure of the house could be seen anymore.

Harry took a deep breath and began to stumble over fallen tiles and beams of wood. There should be something left... Wasn't there anything? He tripped and nearly lost his balance. He looked back and saw Lily Potter's body, half-buried beneath the debris of what once was his home.

Bile rose in his throat. _Oh no, I can't do this..._ He forced himself to swallow and turn away from her body. He continued through the ruins and happened upon the battered corpse of James Potter, whose face — so like his own — stared up blankly at him.

Harry breathed deeply and walked away, toward the edge of the ruins, where he could see a figure bent over something on the ground. He was aware of Snape following him as he approached the figure.

It was Snape. Snape was holding up baby Harry, who by some miracle wasn't even crying. He gazed up at Snape with solemn eyes, and Snape gazed back, unmoving. They stood that way for a long time, just standing in the rain, and Harry felt equally frozen, waiting for what might happen next. The memory was slowly coming back to him, but at a much slower pace than things were happening.

Finally, Memory Snape, as Harry had come to think of him, pulled his wand out of his robes and gingerly pushed a lock of the baby's hair to the side. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he saw the scar, the reddish, lighting-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, that had been the cause of so many of the troubles that Harry had experienced. Snape seemed to become breathless as well, as he stared down at the scar.

After a moment, he let out his breath and jerked his wand away from Harry's forehead as though he'd been burned. A steely resolve hardened the expression on his face. He raised his wand and murmured, "_Abdere._" When the wand came away, a shimmering memory clung to its tip.

Baby Harry's eyes became glazed and unfocused for a moment. In that moment, Snape seemed to scan the memory, prodding it with his wand in certain places, and completely wiping out other parts. Finally, he replaced the memory inside Harry's mind.

The infant twitched and began to cry almost instantly, but by that time Snape had already disappeared into the fog that had crept around the houses of Godric's Hollow. Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He was started out of his reflections on what had just taken place when a considerably large figure descended on a flying motorcycle, at the edge of the ruins. As the person drew closer, Harry recognized it as Hagrid, who picked up the squalling baby and knelt down in the mud. The rain slowly began to cease as the memory faded from Harry's vision to be replaced by the dingy upstairs room in Number Four Grimmauld Place.

The memory itself came back to Harry with the force of a runaway train, and he staggered back as he realized that — _he could remember_. The memory of that awful day had returned, and although it was very fuzzy and unclear, he just felt relief that his mind was once again his own. Glancing down at the Pensieve, he saw that the traces of memory had disappeared from inside. It had replaced itself.

Malfoy was sitting against the wall, looking at them in a quizzical way. Snape was standing a few steps away from Harry and the Pensieve, gazing at him intently. "Is that sufficient evidence for you, Potter?" he said. His voice lacked its usual venom, and now sounded only tired. "Do you believe me now? If you don't, you may as well hand me over to either Voldemort or the Order. Both are probably after my blood, so you'll be getting rid of me whichever you choose."

Harry blinked. His thoughts were going a mile a minute. _So Snape really was on our side after all... But then why didn't Dumbledore ever tell me about this? It would have been so much easier to accept it before his death... I suppose it's just like the whole thing with the Prophecy... Why didn't Snape tell me? If he'd just told me what really happened that night, we wouldn't be in this mess, and I would have trusted him long before now... Or would I have?_

He had only really disliked Snape because of his animosity toward his father, and Harry's resemblance to James had probably been why Snape had hated him so much anyway. Would Harry have trusted him even if he had revealed this critical information before now?

Which brought him to another interesting question... "Why'd you warn my mum and dad?" Harry asked. "You didn't have to, and you didn't like my dad enough to warn him just because you were on the same side. What made you do that, Snape?"

Snape looked at Harry with a pained look in his eyes. "In our sixth year at Hogwarts, the Marauders almost got me eaten by a werewolf who, I am sure you know, was their good friend Remus Lupin. If not for James's bout of conscience, he would have been expelled and I'd — I'd be dead right now. I owed your father, and I couldn't let that hang over me for the rest of my life. I couldn't ever stand being in the debt of a conceited person like that."

"That's why you tried so hard to keep me safe," Harry said, suddenly remembering Dumbledore's explanation at the end of his first year. "My first year at Hogwarts. You wanted to repay my dad for saving you, because your warning didn't come in time."

Snape nodded, and Harry felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude toward the man he hated. Now that he knew the former Potions master's true motives, he felt sorry that he had openly loathed him for so long. He still didn't like him, but this new feeling of gratefulness lessened his hate.

"Snape —" Harry began.

He was interrupted by a sound that came from downstairs. Snape put up a hand and slipped over to the door and listened carefully. The next second he had grabbed Harry, Malfoy, and the Pensieve and was dragging them toward the far wall. "They're here," Snape said in a ragged whisper. "They must have seen you come in here, and now they've followed you. You two need to hide, quickly."

There was no need for him to explain who "they" were. Harry felt a cold knot of fear in his stomach as he was shoved into the corner. _The Death Eaters must've known about this place... Are we going to be caught now, after all I've just learned?_

Another thought occurred to him, and he stopped dead in horror. _Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna... Are they alright? I sent them to check for Death Eaters..._ He was filled with a sense of despair. _I've sent us all to our deaths._

Snape waved his wand at the wall, and the hidden loft from which he had drawn the Pensieve once again revealed itself. The rope ladder fell at their feet, and Snape shoved Malfoy halfway up the ladder. "Hurry up. Climb up there, and stay out of sight."

Malfoy scurried to the top, and Harry began to follow him. But Snape stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'll try to distract them, Potter," he muttered, "but I don't know if that will be enough. If they find you, get out and run, no matter what happens to me. Understand? _Run._" The sound of footsteps on the stairs reached them.

Harry nodded to show he understood. Snape's hand moved down until it got to Harry's hand. Before Harry could turn and climb back up the ladder, Snape pressed something into his hand and whispered, "Good luck." He let go of Harry and took a few steps toward the door, drawing his wand again reflexively.

Harry paused, staring at the tall man, and in that one moment of hesitation he had the horrible feeling that he'd never see Severus Snape ever again. An instinct, some hidden sixth sense, told him that something dreadful was going to happen to Snape. And even despite his hatred for the man, he felt a deep sense of regret. No matter how nasty Snape might have been to him, no matter what he had done in the past, nobody deserved the fate that was coming for Snape. And Harry felt... sorry. He didn't want another death of someone he knew on his hands.

"Snape —" he said.

Snape whirled around as the sound of footsteps grew louder still. "You are still here?" he snapped. "Get up that ladder, Potter, and be quick about it!"

Harry swallowed and, without another thought of the matter, fled up the ladder. As soon as he reached the loft, the wall section swung shut behind him, and he and Malfoy were left alone in the dark.

And in the room beyond, Snape was left alone to face the Death Eaters.


	19. The Fourth Curse

Chapter 19 — The Fourth Curse

Harry and Malfoy crouched in the pitch-black loft. The sliding panel had left a tiny crack in the wall, so they were just able to see what was happening in the room beyond.

Harry's heart thudded painfully in his chest as he listened to the sound of footsteps coming up the staircase grow louder. Snape stood stock-still in the middle of the room, waiting with his wand drawn. All three people in the room waited for the intruders to burst in. Harry half-drew his wand in the tense moments prior to their arrival, but then bit his lip and replaced it in his pocket. There was nothing he could do to help Snape without giving himself away, and he knew doing so would jeopardize everything he and his friends had been doing for the past two months.

Finally, all outside the room was silent. A hushed voice could be heard, then a clicking noise... then three Death Eaters burst into the room, wands drawn and aimed directly at Snape, who regarded the intruders quite calmly. "Hello, my friends," he hissed quietly. "And what brings you here? Any news from the Dark Lord?"

"Don't give us that, Snape!" one of the hooded Death Eaters snarled. "He's been watching this house for weeks! It's a bit of a surprise to find you here, true, but that's just an added bonus. No, we're here for Harry Potter. Our spies have caught four of his dumb little friends, and he was seen entering this house just over an hour ago. He never came out, either. Where's he gone, Snape? We know you're hiding him somewhere, and possibly the Malfoy boy, too. Just tell us where they are, and the Dark Lord may be willing to spare your life."

Harry gasped when the man said that they'd captured his friends. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes in pain. _Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville... gone. I killed them all... Oh my God, I'm so, so sorry..._

Snape had also gone quite pale about halfway through this speech, but when he spoke, his voice betrayed no emotion and was as smooth and oily as ever. "Really. Well, I can assure you that I have seen neither Potter nor Draco Malfoy. I have been spying about this house, which is the ex-headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, as I'm sure you already know. And I have never once turned my back on the cause of the Dark Lord..."

"Please, Snape," a nervous voice came from a short, hunched man with a hand that seemed to be encased in a silver glove. Wormtail. "Just do what they say. You don't know what he'd do —"

"Oh, shut up, Wormtail!" the short, squat Death Eater in the middle cut in impatiently. Harry realized with a start that it was a woman. A woman he recognized immediately, the moment she spoke with her singsong, falsely sweet voice. "Hello, Severus. It's been a long time."

"Dolores." Snape nodded politely to her.

Harry turned cold. So Dolores Umbridge _was_ a Death Eater. He had been right all along. _Has she been on their side all this time, or just since our fifth year? No wonder she was so interested in the Ravenclaw Horcrux... She's betrayed the Ministry... I wonder if Rufus Scrimgeour knows that his right-hand witch is a Death Eater?_

Umbridge looked around the room, obviously searching for Harry and Malfoy's hiding place. Both boys instinctively froze, hardly daring to breathe as her searchlight stare passed over the wall behind which they were hidden.

"The Dark Lord has been extremely worried about you," Umbridge said softly. "When you disappeared that night and never reported back, he began to house certain suspicions that were not in your favor. When two months passed, with no sign of you or the Malfoy boy, his suspicions were confirmed. You've become dangerous, Snape. He isn't quite sure what to do with you."

"And what does he think about me?" Snape asked, dangerously quiet.

"You're a traitor, Snape," Umbridge said flatly. "Either you've been feeding information from this side to the Order of the Phoenix, or you're using what you've learned for your own purposes against the Dark Lord. And both ways are equally hazardous to him. Your double-crossing has gone on long enough. You must come with us to the Dark Lord, where he will exact punishment upon you. If you don't cooperate, we will have no choice but to eliminate you."

Snape held up his wand and nonchalantly began to twirl it between his long fingers. "And how exactly will you do that?" he asked quietly, all pretences of still being on their side quickly vanishing. "You know I could slip through your fingers easily if I so chose. I'm stronger than all three of you; and as you know, I'm nearly as strong as the Dark Lord himself. If I decided not to go back, I'd find it all too easy to overcome you."

Harry saw the hand holding Umbridge's wand slowly move upward. At that point, he decided it high time to do something about the whole situation. He was wondering what he could do from the loft when he suddenly remembered something Ron had once said: _"She shows signs of life if you do this."_ Harry grinned and, crawling right up to the crack, put his tongue against the roof of his mouth and clicked.

He kept doing the same thing, over and over, louder and louder, until a distinct clip-clopping noise—like the sound of horse hooves—began to emerge throughout the room. He tried to channel as much centaur-ness as he could into the sound, and was quickly rewarded for his efforts.

Wormtail and the as of yet unidentified Death Eater looked slightly perturbed by the sound, which seemed to be coming out of nowhere, but Umbridge looked positively terrified. "What was that?" she said, casting quick, darting glances around the room. "Who's making that noise? Is it you?" she accused Snape, peering at his thin mouth to detect any signs of movement. Finding none, she spun around and drew her wand fearfully as the noise continued.

Harry, delighted at her overreaction, went at it with a renewed enthusiasm. Now his tormenting her was partly to get her out of the way, and partly for revenge for the faint scars etched into the back of his hand, and the capture of his friends.

"_Clip-clop-clip-clop-clip-clop..._"

"Stop it!" Umbridge shouted. She shot a wild look at her colleagues. "Do you hear it? Who's doing it?"

Wormtail and the other man looked at each other. Then they too began inspecting the room. Harry immediately stopped his clicking tongue and held his breath. _Please don't let them find us... Please don't let them find us.._. Beside him, Malfoy lay petrified in a sort of fascinated fear.

After going around the room, Wormtail bent down right by the loft's hidden entrance and gazed at something on the floor. Then he straightened up, stretched back, and looked directly into Harry's eyes.

Both Harry and Wormtail gasped at exactly the same time. Harry now noticed that Wormtail was the perfect height to see through the crack in the wall. What would he do, now that he'd seen them?

The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. And suddenly Harry saw a seldom-used expression dart across Wormtail's pointy face: guilt. He seemed to be fighting an inner battle with himself, and Harry could only pray that the infinitesimal shred of decency in his soul won. _Please..._ he begged silently.

"Have you found something, Wormtail?" The hooded Death Eater asked, speaking up for the first time after having been interrupted by Wormtail and Umbridge. Wormtail flinched, half-turned away from Harry, then met his eyes one last time.

_Please don't._

Wormtail turned his back on Harry and Malfoy. "No," he said quietly. "No, it was just a spider, startled me."

Snape's face didn't betray even the slightest flicker of the confusion and relief he must have been feeling. The tall Death Eater snorted. "Everything scares you, Wormtail. It's a wonder the Dark Lord hasn't scared you to death yet."

"But where did that noise come from?" Umbridge demanded. "It sounded just like a cen —" She grew pale, then red-faced with growing fury. She spun around to Snape. "You do have Potter in here somewhere, you liar!" she hissed. "Only he and his friends know about how that _sound_ affects me! Where is he, Snape? _Where?_!"

"Search me," Snape said coolly. "As I told you before, I have seen neither Potter nor his friends since I so hastily left the Astronomy Tower. How on earth could such a little noise affect one of the Dark Lord's most prominent Death Eaters?"

Whether he meant to or not, he sent a message to Harry through his words. _So not only is she a Death Eater, but she's pretty high at the top of the food chain, too_, Harry thought. This gave him an even greater incentive to frighten her. He lay motionless in the loft, waiting for the opportune moment to continue his harassment of the toadlike woman.

"That is none of your concern," Umbridge answered, just as coolly as Snape. "Enough stalling, Snape." She held up her wand and pointed it threateningly at the former Potions professor. "We've been given our orders. Come quietly and I may be able to put a good word in with the master."

"No," Snape said softly. His expression told all inside the room that he knew he'd just sealed his fate at last. Harry felt a twinge in his heart. It wasn't sadness, exactly, and it wasn't pity either. Snape had known what would eventually come, ever since casting his lot in with Dumbledore.

The feeling was, Harry realized, a morbid kind of apprehension. He did not want to see this. As Umbridge scowled and said something back to Snape, Harry turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut.

The next second they flew open again as he heard a familiar sound.

"_Clip-clop-clip-clop-clip-clop..._"

Malfoy had finally been spurred into action, and had apparently caught on to Harry's scheme. He was now doing a better centaur imitation than even Harry had been able to do. His eyes had a cold fear in them, but the rhythm never wavered while he struggled to save the life of his favorite Hogwarts professor.

After a moment, Harry grinned slightly and joined in. They were now performing a centaur duet, and Harry could tell that this time Umbridge was about ready to jump out of her skin.

"Who _is_ that?!" she screeched furiously. She began randomly shooting spells at the ceiling and walls, while the two boys hidden in the loft clip-clopped for all they were worth. Harry could only hope that she didn't accidentally hit them, or else it would all be over.

Umbridge looked like she was going to explode with both rage and fright. She seemed to be revisiting that day in the Forbidden Forest, when the centaurs had carried her off and done who knew what to her.

And still the dreaded sound of centaurs' hooves rang through the room.

"_Clip-clop-clip-clop-clip-clop..._"

"_Filthy half-breeds!_" she screamed in a fury, obviously forgetting that the name had been the final straw that made the centaurs carry her away. But still the noise persisted.

And so it was, that Harry, Malfoy, Snape, Wormtail, and the other Death Eater were the only witnesses as, for the first time in her life, Umbridge panicked, shot an explosively powerful spell at Snape, turned tail and fled from the room in a fright.

The action had been so unexpected that Snape had no time to deflect the curse. There was a hot, sizzling sound, and Harry and Malfoy were suddenly flung backwards.

In the second they weren't looking out through the hole in the wall, there came a cry of shock from the room beyond. Then... there was nothing. No sound except for Malfoy's ragged breathing as he crept back to his place behind the wall. After a moment, Harry followed suit, and together they peered outside.

A strangled gasp came out of Malfoy. Harry lay there, motionless with shock, and he realized with a heavy finality that his premonition had been correct.

Severus Snape stood frozen in the middle of the room. He seemed to have been Petrified, and Harry would have assumed that had he not seen the dullness of his eyes, and the unnatural dark film that surrounded his body, carrying the eerie menace of Dark magic. Somehow, using a spell Harry had never seen before, Umbridge had managed to kill Snape on the spot.

Wormtail and the other man seemed a little hesitant around him. After a few minutes of silent inspection, Wormtail muttered, "She used the Fourth Curse, hex her. We were supposed to try and take him back to headquarters alive..."

"The Fourth Curse?" the hooded Death Eater said slowly. "That's the one that the Dark Lord created, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Wormtail, looking Snape up and down, but taking care not to touch the menacing aura surrounding him. "You notice the aura around him? But for that, any innocent passersby would assume he was just standing stiffly. It's hard enough to detect by a far-off wizard; the black aura is nearly invisible to muggles. Never thought it to be Dolores's style," he added distastefully.

"Should we keep looking for Potter and the Malfoy boy?"

Wormtail hesitated, glancing back at the wall that concealed Harry and Malfoy. "No," he answered finally. "There's no denying that Potter and Draco were here before, but they're gone now."

"Who was making that noise? The one that apparently drove her mad? It wasn't Snape, so somebody else must be in here."

"No," said Wormtail firmly. He wasn't quite such a sniveling coward with a Death Eater of his own rank. He actually seemed very collected. "No, there's no one in here now. Let's go."

The other man obediently turned and headed toward the door after one last suspicious look in the direction of the hidden loft. Wormtail made as if to follow him; then, a moment later, he did a half turn and stared straight into Harry's eyes. He put his silver right hand to his chest and nodded in a sort of salute. And then they were both gone.

Harry closed his eyes again. The meaning of Wormtail's final message was clear: At last, he had fulfilled his debt to Harry. He was now free from the bonds that had tied him to Harry ever since his third year at Hogwarts, when he had kept Sirius and Lupin from killing the traitor. It was over. The payment of a life-debt was finally complete.

Harry took a deep, shuddering breath. If not for Wormtail's sudden spat of conscience, or whatever it had been, he and Malfoy would be caught, and possibly captured, right now. _That was way too close._ And speaking of capture...

_Ron and Hermione, Luna and Neville... Could they still be alive? Is it even a possibility? The Death Eaters might have kept them alive, to question them about me... I have to go look for them._

After a few more minutes of lying up in the loft, making sure the Death Eaters were really gone, Harry sat up and uncertainly prodded the wall before him with his wand. He jumped back as with a clatter the section of wall flew upward, revealing the loft. The rope ladder automatically fell back down.

Harry looked over at Malfoy. He seemed just as frozen as Snape, but his crouched body was quivering in shock. His wide, wide eyes, set in an overly pale face, stared blindly out into the room.

_What do I do with him?_ Harry wondered. He'd never seen Malfoy like this before, not ever. He seemed a shadow of his normally sneering, demeaning self.

"Malfoy," Harry said. Malfoy didn't even look at him, but blinked and apparently became more aware of his surroundings. "Malfoy, we need to get going. Once they've told Voldemort they couldn't find us, he's going to be turning this place inside out looking for us."

Not unexpectedly, Malfoy flinched at the use of the Dark Lord's name. But he finally looked alive again. He sat up and shot Harry a disdainful sneer that was almost welcome, it was so _normal_. "Where exactly do you propose we go, Potter?" he spat. "The Death Eaters have surrounded this _place_ already; the Dark Lord himself is stationed nearby. There's no possible way we can escape undetected." He climbed down the ladder and walked over to the door, refusing to look at Snape's petrified body. Harry quickly descended the ladder and stopped at the bottom. Malfoy continued, "And I would appreciate it, Potter, if you didn't do that."

"Do what?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes like he was talking to a stupid person. "Talk to me in that familiar way, like you're talking with Weasley or Granger. I'm not your friend, whether I'm on your side or not, so please stop acting like it. I'll work with you, fine, but just until I can get somewhere safe. Alright?"

Harry's jaw dropped in disbelief. The indignant voice in his head immediately shouted, _What! I practically saved both our lives! Fine, I understand you don't want to be friends, six years of being flat-out enemies are hard to undo, but you shouldn't be so, so... You don't need to act like I'm stupid, I've never looked for your friendship anyway, great big git..._

But instead of exploding, he simply nodded his head and said, more than a little spitefully, "Fine, Malfoy. Whatever you want, let's just get out of here. I need to find my friends."

With a curt nod, Malfoy quickly turned and left the room. Harry followed, but as he passed by Snape, he paused. He looked into the former Potions master's eyes, normally so dark and glittering, and, biting his lip, whispered, "Goodbye."

Then he left, closing the door softly behind him. _Goodbye._

The lifeless statue of Severus Snape was left alone in the cold, dark room.

* * *

Harry and Malfoy crept cautiously downstairs. There was no sign of any Death Eaters anywhere, but they kept to the shadows just in case. As Harry thought about what had happened upstairs, the familiar rooms seemed colder and more distant than ever before.

"What was that spell that Umbridge used on Snape?" Harry whispered. "I'd never seen anything like it before." This particular question had been weighing on his mind ever since he had witnessed Umbridge's flight. _That was one of the most powerful and lethal spells I've ever seen. If Voldemort could use something like that against the Order, and never get caught... They need to be warned._

Malfoy scowled at Harry, but answered anyway in a tight, low voice. "It's a spell the Dark Lord made up himself. It's quick, and usually done nonverbally, but in effect it freezes the blood of the person it's done on and instantly kills him. Wormtail was right, it leaves such a faint trace, to muggles it would look like nothing had happened. It's brilliant, really..." A hint of bitterness crept into his voice. "I just wish it hadn't been done on Snape. He wasn't really on their side, you know. He fooled the Dark Lord, he fooled them all... He even fooled me."

Harry glanced quickly at Malfoy, whose face was frozen in a blank mask. "What did Wormtail call it?" Harry asked. "The 'Fourth Curse'?"

"Yes," Malfoy said shortly. They passed through the kitchen, and Harry waited patiently for more. He wondered just what Malfoy had been through during the past few months; he knew that Snape had been dragging him everywhere to try and escape the Death Eaters, but what exactly had happened to make Malfoy so gaunt and quiet?

Malfoy sighed, then muttered, "The name is a bit of a joke on the Ministry, actually. The Dark Lord knows that if they knew about this new, lethal spell, they would ban it and make it into an Unforgivable Curse. So he just started calling it the Fourth Curse. It doesn't even have a proper name."

They headed in the direction of the front hall in silence. Then Harry suddenly had a thought, and he stopped. "What if they're waiting for us?" he said softly.

Malfoy stopped, too, as though the thought had never before occurred to him. He looked unsure for a moment, then quickly drew his wand and snarled, "Let them come, then. Let them come in here, the bloody murderers, and I'll show them that not everybody here's ready to roll over and go quietly..."

Harry took a slight step back, surprised by Malfoy's vehemence. He decided not to point out that until Dumbledore's death, Malfoy had been just as willing to kill as "the bloody murderers." _Snape's death's changed him_, he thought, startled. _He used to be the one who stood up for the Death Eaters and what they're doing..._ He glanced down at Malfoy's left forearm, hidden by the long sleeve of his robes. He was sure the Dark Mark was tattooed there, but somehow Snape had managed to turn the young man around. And now, his mentor's death had also affected him greatly.

"Let's go," Malfoy muttered. His brief show of courage had temporarily disappeared, but he still held his wand in his hand. Harry nodded, not trusting himself to say anything.

They reached the door without awakening the portrait of Sirius's mother in the hall. Harry wondered why she was so quiet, then decided that either she was asleep, or the presence of a Malfoy, of a loyal pure-blooded family, was enough to keep her from screaming at them. _Good thing, too,_ he thought. _That would have let every Death Eater for miles around know where we are._

Harry opened the door a crack and peered outside. Malfoy swore softly behind him as they both looked and saw at least a dozen Death Eaters stationed at various places around the Grimmauld Place homes. Several of them were talking to each other in low voices, but all the rest were gazing intently at the windows and doors of Number Twelve.

Treading as quietly as he could, Harry backed up, silently closed the door, and turned to Malfoy. "They're waiting," he whispered. "We'll have to make a run for it."

Malfoy looked at him with a steely determination in his eye. And then, despite his speech about still being sworn enemies, he nodded soberly at Harry, who nodded back. They weren't friends, no, and Harry didn't think they could ever be friends. Six years of fermenting a deep hatred toward one another was practically irreversible. But they were no longer complete enemies. Their experiences, losses, and trials had changed them both into different people.

"On three," Harry whispered. The door creaked slightly as he reopened it, ready to throw it open when the time came for them to run. "One... two... _three_!"


End file.
